


Historical Alternatives

by keirajo



Series: The Love of Romance [22]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Battle, Danger, M/M, Religion, Romance, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:54:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 52,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25078693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keirajo/pseuds/keirajo
Summary: The crew of the Lost Light, in their new universe that they are exploring, are about to stumble upon some very familiar things.   Meanwhile, Rodimus and Megatron try to "put right" their strained relationship after Megatron's primal regression a few months back.   Some very strange and strangely familiar things are about to happen to the crew of the Lost Light, but will it be for good or for bad?
Relationships: Drift | Deadlock/Ratchet, Megatron/Rodimus | Rodimus Prime
Series: The Love of Romance [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1222904
Comments: 18
Kudos: 15





	1. War and Conquest

**Author's Note:**

> Like my newest GalvaRod 'fic, "Torch of Victory", this is going to be a long and multi-chaptered story, with some heavy consequences for our favorite ship crew.
> 
> And........yes, I did seriously make an "Ultraman" reference--I've been kinda super-obsessed with "Ultraman Orb" recently and binging on the series and surrounding movies. It's gotten me back into the Ultra franchise, too....... XD

**_ Historical Alternatives _ **

_ Chapter One: War and Conquest _

The _Lost Light_ had docked at a Galactic Ranger Patrol outpost to get repairs and upgrades done on the ship. It had been Nautica’s request, after speaking with some of the Ranger Patrol when they’d been docked and waiting to pursue the Trylian craft a couple months ago, for the rescue of Megatron and the others. Nautica had learned of some new technology the GRP ships had and was trying to see how she could adapt that technology for the Lost Light. Then she turned in the official request to Ultra Magnus—which had been granted while Megatron and Rodimus had still been labelled as on “ _medical leave_ ”.

That gave everyone some shore leave at the moment. The GRP outpost was in orbit around a planet called Elonia, with shops and tourist traps, as well as a thriving industrial nation that led the planet overall. Most of the crew went down to the planet, a few were curious to explore the GRP orbital outpost—some remained on board the ship. Like Megatron, who was always uncomfortable around organics and especially given the situation that had just happened, he felt he should just give all of that potential interaction a little bit of time.

That meant that Rodimus was staying on the ship, as well. More because he was emotionally messy right now and wanted to just stick around with Megatron, at the moment. There was still uncertainty—at least to the flame-colored mech—in their relationship, because of Megatron’s “ _missing memories_ ”. Rodimus wanted to believe more than anything that there wasn’t anything “missing” between them, but having seen what he had “ _inside_ ” of Megatron and their Spark-bond having been blocked, like it had (by Megatron himself, whether intentionally or instinctively)—he knew he couldn’t rely on simply words being spoken between them to keep it all “ _right_ ”.

And, for once, Megatron honestly didn’t know what to say to make it better—he had no idea what happened, he had no idea how he blocked the Spark-bond. He just had his words for the here and now. Rodimus seemed to only be concerned about the “ _here and now_ ”, because he feared he couldn’t rely on the future anymore. Megatron had to accept the “ _here and now_ ” for their relationship, because until he figured out what he had done during his primal regression—he couldn’t claim to keep things “ _normal_ ” for the future, either.

But Megatron didn’t mind how “ _cuddle-up_ ” Rodimus became. The flame-colored mech wanted to just be near him, he even submitted to interfacing a lot more often than he had in the past—where he’d sometimes have to be coaxed into it. He just wanted Megatron near him, that was all—he didn’t care much about the methods of the “ _nearness_ ”. For Megatron, who’d never had an emotional and romantic relationship such as this, it was something he came to treasure very much. He’d had flings and frags and more-than-once-partners over his long, long life—he’d had worthwhile relationships during his eight centuries in the Functionist Universe—but he’d never had such an emotional and endearing relationship such as the one he had, now, with Rodimus. One that he wanted to salvage and treasure for the remainder of his lifetime.

“ _Oh_ , hey Magnus,” Rodimus said, coming into his and Megatron’s hab suite and seeing the Ship’s Second was sitting at the room’s large table across from Megatron. “ _Wow_. **_War and Conquest_** —I don’t think I’ve seen anyone playing that game in……….like, maybe _forever_!” He chuckled, walking over to Megatron and snuggling up against the grey-colored mech’s large back and broad shoulders. “ _Ooooh_ , ambitious—you guys are playing galactic size! How long have you been playing? Who’s winning?” He asked, resting his chin on top of Megatron’s helm.

“We just started today, we expect it to take a few weeks—and definitely several days before we start to see if anyone’s winning, yet,” Megatron answered, reaching up a servo to brush digits along the side of Rodimus’ helm. “I had no idea you even knew what this game was. Mostly the upper-class played this, I only know about it because it was what it was—wargames without bloodshed, plus Starscream enjoyed the game, I learned most of the gameplay through him. Ultra Magnus has had to refresh me on some of the minutia rules.”

“A lot of the oldmechs in Nyon played, though there wasn’t the room or resources for more than local size boards back then,” Rodimus answered, his field showing he was happy to be cuddling up against Megatron’s large frame.

“ _War and Conquest_ ” was a Cybertronian game, played primarily by the “ _upper-class_ ” of the Golden Age. It was created sometime after the Thirteen Tribes had warred and Cybertron settled into a more advanced and civilized society. In essence, to compare it to an Earth board game…it was something of a cross between chess, Risk and Dungeons & Dragons. It was strategy and contemplation, as well as just a little bit storytelling. There were several versions of gameplay—based upon sizes and amount of time players wished to play for. There were “ _local size_ ” boards, which were basically cities or factions warring against each other within a certain range. Local size boards were, at length, the shortest game possible—they could usually be played within 5-6 hours at most. Then there was “ _planetary size_ ” boards, these were games that could generally be played within a week or two weeks, or 50-90 hours. The war scale were planets interacting with one another and their neighbors. The third size, the ambitious size—" _galactic size_ ”—was a long game. Players played it over the course of weeks and even months, it didn’t necessarily need to end with one player conquering the other’s territory—there were added rules in a galactic size version to encompass things like peaceful settling, trade and expansion/colonization. A galactic size version of the game ended when one player had amassed an agreed upon set of planets, systems and had achieved certain “ _win conditions_ ” that had been decided beforehand. It had wider variety of religious and political factions, which all had to be managed to have a working and functional “ _galactic alliance of worlds_ ” working together against another of the same. It was also easier to lose, even if you had amassed the most territory and people, because of factions within your alliance of worlds—a “ _loss condition_ ” could randomly generate far easier with the larger board, even if you had managed to do everything right in your management and conquest. As such, a galactic size board didn’t have a general amount of hours allocated to average gameplay, but was usually longer than two or three months, at an average of an hour or two a day, several days a week.

“Have _you_ ever played, Rodimus?” Ultra Magnus asked politely as he leaned back in his chair, optics glued to his game datapad as he began setting up his initial phases of gameplay.

“I did, but I don’t think I was too good at it……the oldmechs usually let me win,” the flame-colored mech chuckled.

“They were really fond of you, weren’t they?” Megatron asked, rubbing the edge of Rodimus’ helm with warmth.

“I loved them, too. They were so nice to me from the moment I came online,” Rodimus murmured, offlining his optics and just enjoying being near his lover and sparkmate. “Nyon was my home and maybe as a newmech I didn’t understand it falling apart as it had been when I came online, but I knew the people were dying and as I got older, I tried so hard to save them.”

Ultra Magnus made a small sound of acknowledgement—there were honestly no words he could say to make that event any better for Rodimus. Megatron made a soft murmur of consolation as his servo continued to rub the side of Rodimus’ helm.

“Do you really think I would’ve wound up being a priest at the citadel?” Rodimus asked, feeling the soothing warmth of his sparkmate’s love flow through their bond and Megatron’s own EM field. A few weeks ago, First Aid had a conference with Rodimus and Megatron to explain the findings and theories on Rodimus’ dermal sensor net and it’s increasing strength and sensitivity. It seemed weird to Rodimus that it would come to all of that, his “ _pre-programmed future_ ” as some might have said……….but he hadn’t even really understood the purpose of the dermal sensor net to begin with.

“Theoretically, I could see it being possible—in the old days, priests and medics often did the same things and had a lot of the same training. People who were afraid of medics and clinics, could be better encouraged to see their local priests—or those skeptical of religion could find the help they needed in clinics,” Ultra Magnus said, his deep voice showing his sincerity in the belief of his knowledge. “If we take the mark that had been on your chestplate as a _priest’s cross_ , rather than the medical cross—it’s entirely feasible. Especially when you consider the cross on your chestplate had been pale yellow, nearly white— ** _not_** medical red. I think we all come into existence with a purpose, some of us find it easier than others. And some may never find it at all, or lose it very dramatically—such as Whirl. He ambles through his life after losing the place he cherished more than anything, rather than trying to take it back…….he _wants_ to live with his scars, rather than let the medics fix them and try to return to what he once had.”

Rodimus made a soft humming sound of thoughtfulness. It was true, that with the medical staff they had now—and Cybertron’s past rules far behind them—Whirl _could_ have his servos back. Whirl could have his face back. However, Whirl chose to remain as he was, because he was afraid that if he didn’t have his anger at his scars anymore, then he might lose his reason to live—which was really rather forward-thinking of him, to be able to know what his psychological problems were rooted in. Even if he wasn’t as motivated to fix them as he should be. It wasn’t wrong to amble through life, as long as you didn’t destroy the others around you while you did so—and Whirl was on a better path, with his odd friendship he’d forged with Cyclonus (and, peripherally, Tailgate). Those two might become his redemption one day.

“I’m not the religious type, though………..I dunno, I think I _could’ve_ —I wanted to try, with Drift, once, you know?” The flame-colored mech murmured softly. “But I dunno. Not sure I could do the whole priesthood thing.”

“What about being a medic? Have you enjoyed working in the medi-bay?” The old soldier asked, looking up from his game datapad and over at Rodimus.

“ _Yeah_. I feel pretty calm being there, working with First Aid, Velocity and the others,” the younger mech answered, grinning at Magnus from over Megatron’s helm, where his chin was still resting. “It feels pretty right, to be honest.”

“Then I suppose it is more the matter of the perceived definition of a healer-priest and a medic,” the red-white-blue mech chuckled softly. “To me, I don’t think being a healer-priest necessarily means you _must_ be religious. I feel it is something more empathic and one-on-one. Whereas a medic must deal in bulk—they have to deal with more of a mass of patients in a shorter amount of time.”

“It’s a very calm view,” Megatron said, interjecting into the conversation. “Religion can often agitate or influence people or masses. But it is true that priests work more at a one-on-one with their flocks—they have their mass services, but when they take confessions—those are generally specified and empathic towards individuals. Medics often don’t have the luxury for such a thing,” he added, evenness in his voice. “However, in general, priests don’t perform intensive and invasive surgeries that medics do. There are some priests who have taken traditional medical training, but they often set up clinics, as medics do—rather than take their _‘patients’_ through the religious location.”

Rodimus made another thoughtful humming sound and then pulled away from Megatron. He looked around to grab another chair and pulled it up to the table. “Mind if I watch you guys play for a while? I promise I won’t interfere or interrupt……..?” The flame-colored mech asked, softly.

“I do not mind,” Ultra Magnus replied with a smile at the younger mech.

“Nor do I,” Megatron added, chuckling softly as he smiled over at his sparkmate.

* * * * *

“Come on, Ratty—the map shows it should be down _this way_ ,” Drift said, grinning at his older lover as he clasped the medic’s servo and dragged him down a sidewalk.

“I simply don’t understand why you want to visit a local church on an alien world,” Ratchet complained, his complaint-voice at its most bored tone, allowing himself to be pulled along behind his excitable younger lover.

“ _Well_. I admit, now that I can observe it in relative peace—I **_am_** curious about the myriad of religions in the universe, but _that’s_ not the reason. I heard something interesting about the architecture of this particular church,” the swordsmech responded, his voice bouncy and cheerful. “I was told it was built by some mechanoids.”

Ratchet’s optic orbs widened, making the blue glass glow brightly.

“Ratty—maybe it’s _this universe’s_ Cybertronians? The Galactic Alliance told us that Cybertron’s system was devastated but……… ** _when_**? I mean, it could’ve existed and then if they had something similar to the Grand Departure—and maybe the war between the thirteen tribes destroyed Cybertron…….?” Drift said, glancing back at Ratchet with excitement on his faceplate.

“All right, suppose we assume that. But what if they are merely a mechanaloid species and not exactly what we’d call _‘Cybertronians’_?” Ratchet responded, always feeling he had to play devil’s advocate to keep Drift going on the right path.

“Well, sure. There’s _that_ , but it’s still worth a look. It’s not like you were doing anything exciting without me anyways,” the swordsmech laughed warmly as his servos squeezed his lover’s with great fondness.

“I could think of exciting things to do with you, that _don’t_ involve wandering about an alien planet with a lot of aimlessness,” the old medic muttered, which made Drift laugh even more.

Then they found it. It was a very beautiful cathedral—and absolutely with the linework and design that resembled anything on Cybertron. Ratchet grunted as he placed his servos on his hips and looked at the three spires of the entry side of the cathedral. _That_ was Cybertronian—the trine was an important view to Cybertronians. Also, though stained-glass was not a Cybertronian creation, the designs of the large stained-glass window above the entryway was _definitely Cybertronian_.

“Of course, this _does_ raise a lot of questions,” Ratchet mumbled.

And before the old medic could stop his lover, Drift had already gone inside the cathedral. Ratchet grumbled under his breath and then followed the swordsmech into the cathedral. It was just as familiar on the inside as it was on the outside, except for the fact that the priests inside were not robotic in any way. Ratchet felt the disappointment in Drift’s EM field.

“Welcome to the Cathedral of Light,” a priest in a red cloak said in greeting, folding his hands in the traditional Primalist greeting and dipping his head. He was clearly a native of this planet, tall and thin with reddish skin and a few brown scales along some of the bone lines of its strange organic body.

Drift echoed the gesture, with a little bit of surprise.

“You have our religion, but you’re not Cybertronian,” the swordsmech asked with puzzlement.

“ _OH!_ Then you are descendants of the founders,” the priest said with a large smile on its face. “Come, allow me to tell you of our founding………” he added, waving a three-digit hand at Drift and Ratchet.

As the priest told the story, Ratchet immediate picked out what was different from Cybertronian history from it, though Drift was wholly absorbed in the odd nuances to the very familiar tenets of Primalism.

It turned out that some long time ago—the priest hadn’t specified a number of years, because religions often didn’t specify years in order to make it seem like their religion had been around “ _forever_ ”—a small group of Cybertronians had come to this world of Elonia. They shared the basics of Primalism with the ancestors of Elonia and build a few churches around the world, before they left to spread their world to other worlds.

“This is a mural of the founders,” the priest said, very happily, motioning at a large painted mural along the rear wall of the cathedral’s large gathering space.

It was the proper art view of the Guiding Hand—not the stylized view those on Cybertron had grown with over the millennia. It was Primus, Mortilus, Epistemus, Adaptus and Solomus in their _true forms_ —the forms the _Lost Light_ crew had learned of at the end, not the very traditional artistic view of them. The five mechs were shown with their arms raised above their heads, standing in a semi-circle—hovering in the air, above their raised servos, was a sphere of light.

Ratchet rubbed his temple with a digit as his head began to ache when he looked at the mural. It was like something was trying to break through inside of his head. With his free servo, he brushed his digits over the central figure of Primus—a mech with yellow-gold and platinum-white tones.

“ _Rung_ ………?” He murmured, softly, the memory of the _Lost Light_ ’s former psychiatrist trying to break through the powerful forced lock on memories of the one who turned out to be Primus. Then, it was as if all the memories he had of Rung through many centuries came flooding back to him. The seal on Cybertronian memories because of Primus’ sacrifice in the ancient past—causing Primus/Rung to become easily forgotten—seemed to break completely and Ratchet remembered everything.

Drift’s memories weren’t coming back quite as fast, but Ratchet could see something working inside of his younger lover’s head as he looked upon the mural. “I don’t remember anyone named Rung, but **_this_** is what Primus really looked like? He’s kind of familiar…………..” the swordsmech said. “And _this_ is Censerre, right? Yeah, we knew them all by other names right in those final battles—they’d all taken these new forms.”

“I think those were their _true forms_ , Drift,” Ratchet said, reaching over and rubbing Drift’s helm fondly. “You understand how religion works, right? Art that comes to represent religious entities are usually based upon artist interpretation and how the religious describe their _‘gods’_ ,” he added. “We never recognized them because they chose new names and went to blend in with all of us. If we thought of the Guiding Hand, we thought of them by the artist representations—never really knowing of their true forms until we all encountered them in that final large battle.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Drift chuckled softly. “But doesn’t this show that Cybertronians really did exist in this universe? But………how do we find them or their descendants or……….find out what really happened to this universe’s Cybertron?”

“If it helps any—the founders said they were _pilgrims_ ,” the priest said. “They had some followers with them, but we never saw all the founders. The founder we met was this one,” he added, pointing to the central figure of Primus. “The legends say that this founder had one-hundred followers with him. Each founder supposedly had one-hundred followers and they all spread out in different directions from the Lost Star.” As it told the tale, the priest would make grand motions with his hands. “They were all looking for the one place they knew was theirs. Each founder was seeking a world that claimed them as its own. But they planted seeds on the worlds they visited, such as ours—bringing the message of light to all of us.”

Ratchet rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Given the peaceful nature here in this cathedral—it was likely this was one of those religious interpretations that “ _light_ ” equalled “ _peace_ ”. It was a fairly common religious interpretation of wording. It might also be that the “ _Lost Star_ ” was Cybertron—alluding to the fact that it no longer seemed to exist in this universe. Spreading out might allude to “ _colonization_ ”, if they had a number of mechs and femmes with them. Not quite the same as the Grand Departure or the departure of the thirteen colony Titans. It sounded as if something had happened to Cybertron during the era of the Guiding Hand—and they departed Cybertron with whom they could save, then went seeking new homes in the universe. The Guiding Hand splitting up with their own groups of followers—which means there might be at least five Cybertronian colonies somewhere out in this alternative universe.

“I think we should tell Megatron and Rodimus and Magnus,” Drift said. “This is pretty interesting news. They might decide to change our focus from aimless exploration to seeking our kin of this universe.”

“It might be a good idea,” Ratchet said, nodding. “But I think we’ll need to look for more information first, before we set out with no given direction. It might be worthwhile to ask the Galactic Alliance if they know of more cathedrals and churches like this on their worlds, with that information we might see a path or pattern emerge on these pilgrims’ travels.”

“But they didn’t have knowledge of Cybertron,” Drift mumbled as they thanked the priest and then left the cathedral.

“That’s different than what this is. We were asking for the location of Cybertron and they found that a stellar phenomenon had destroyed the system,” Ratchet said, very firmly. “We are asking about local religions and that is information that may be in their databases of their worlds—as long as those worlds belong to their Galactic Alliance.”

Drift gave a puzzled frown, but he knew Ratchet wasn’t wrong—this was a different set of information they were looking for now and there might be answers to this one over the “ _did Cybertron exist_ ” in this universe question. And it wasn’t one with as simple an answer as the other—the Galactic Alliance looked at the location coordinates and had information that definitely said “ _no_ ”. The existence of Cybertronians was more like a positive “ _maybe_ ” based on seeing this cathedral here on Elonia. And if that “ _positive maybe_ ” turned out to be a “ _yes_ ”—it wasn’t going to be an easy “ _yes_ ”. Because there might be multiple colonies out there in this universe. And they likely were not going to be an easy find.

* * * * *

Megatron looked at the stills that Drift had taken of the mural. There was no doubt about it—those were the five mechs they called the Guiding Hand in their true forms. At the end, Adaptus had taken Pharma’s body to inhabit—as he no longer had a physical form—and Epistemus had been in the form of an object which had come to be known as the Magificence.

Censerre, the one who had been known as Mortilus, had been slaughtered by the DJD on the world he claimed as his own.

That left only Solomus and Primus in their natural forms from the Guiding Hand—and they had been living as mechs named Tyrest and Rung for the majority of their lives.

Even so, as Megatron recognized the frames of three of the Guiding Hand in this mural—it had to be true the other two were the ones he’d never seen their true forms of. He gazed over at Ultra Magnus and Rodimus at the conference table and wondered what they were thinking.

“So, the question now is—do we begin an actual quest? _Here?_ In this universe?” Ultra Magnus said, a light frown on his faceplate.

“Yeah, we kinda failed the last one, didn’t we? Wouldn’t it suck if we failed this one, because we got our hopes up for others of our kind, existing here?” Rodimus sighed, leaning against the palm of one of his servos and tapping digits of the other on the table before him. “But if there are……..I mean, it would be really interesting to see what they’re like, though. I mean…………lives away from Cybertron—they would’ve _‘grown up’_ a whole lot different than us, I think.”

“I think, from a historical standpoint, it would be fascinating to hear their alternative history of Cybertron and everything. What happened that destroyed their system? A stellar phenomenon was what the Galactic Alliance surmised……..” the red-white-blue mech murmured, curiosity tinging his voice.

“But was it **_war_** instead?” Megatron said, continuing on from Ultra Magnus’ unspoken thought. “In our history, according to what Rung told us—the fight between the Guiding Hand wasn’t on that scale. Adaptus used Luna I to fire a beam at Cybertron that made the populace forget—it wasn’t a weapon of mass destruction.”

“Plus—I mean, look, according to what Drift and Ratchet found out from this priest—this _‘Guiding Hand’_ didn’t fight like ours did. For some reason, they all left Cybertron together and then split up—wandering in their groups to probably, maybe, eventually form colonies?” Rodimus said, sitting up straight and looking at his lover and then his friend. “If _that’s_ the case, then maybe it wasn’t war. Maybe it was something else?”

Megatron nodded. It was a very good point. Alternative universes seemed to have similarities and differences—the simple statement was, another universe was the “ _road not taken_ ”, the choice that wasn’t made in comparison to the choice that was. The Functionist Universe apparently existed because Megatron had never been created to form that uprising—which lead to war, yes, but also stopped tyranny of the senate from ruling Cybertron and dictating that form-meant-function.

So, in this universe—what happened if Adaptus _didn’t_ start a fight with his fellows in the Guiding Hand?

Something **_had_** happened. Cybertron **_was_** destroyed and its system had been wiped out. The five of the Guiding Hand had taken a mass of followers and left Cybertron—to wander until they found places to settle at.

“Let’s see if we can contact someone at the Galactic Alliance headquarters and ask for information about this religion of light that set churches and cathedrals on various worlds,” Megatron finally said. “Once we see what this information contains and if it’s worth pursuing the idea of an actual quest—we can pose that to the crew and see how they feel about that.”

“That sounds like a very good plan to me, I’ll get on it right away, while we’re here at this GRP base,” Ultra Magnus said, getting up and heading for the door to the bridge.

“ _Pfft_ , since when do **_I_** ever follow plans? But you can have fun getting information for us, Mags!” Rodimus laughed, grinning and saluting when his friend turned a glance over his shoulder. The old soldier gave a light huff and waved his servo dismissively before he went to the bridge. “You sure about all of this? I mean, you kinda scoffed at the idea of a quest when we were on it.”

“Yes, well, I believe I was a _different_ mech, then,” Megatron chuckled.

The flame-colored mech laughed and rose from his seat. He walked over to the bulky older mech and pushed his chair back enough so he could settle himself in his lover’s lap.

“I’m glad for that. I think a new quest could be fun—I just don’t want to find a depressing end like the Knights of Cybertron,” the younger mech sighed, leaning the side of his faceplate against the grey-colored mech’s chestplate.

Megatron felt the warmth and desire for closeness in Rodimus’ EM field and took a chance that he could get a good, quick frag out of his lover. Plus, it was something of a turn-on to do it in the Captain’s Ready Room. He leaned down and brushed his fangs lightly over the flame-colored mech’s neck-cabling and listened to the soft purr of submission from his lover.

Rodimus wrapped his arms around Megatron’s neck and pulled his hips up for a few moments, opening his valveplating—as an invitation for his older lover to open his spike panel and put it in. The invitation was accepted and the flame-colored mech lowered himself on the thick, ridged spike, mewling softly with pleasure. They surrendered to each other and the warmth of their Sparks and love for one another.

* * * * *

“There are many legends throughout the worlds in our alliance—historical and mythological, some which might align with what you’re asking,” the GRP officer said, walking quickly alongside Ultra Magnus in the orbital station’s circular walkway.

The officer’s name was Naoli Helios and he was from a world in a neighboring system from Elonia. He was a morale officer on the GRP orbital station—which to many would not seem like much, except morale was incredibly important to those in a military unit. So, to the Galactic Ranger Patrol, a morale officer held almost as much rank as a ship’s bridge officer. He had the honorary position of Lieutenant, without the military training ship officers had to go through. Naoli also happened to be something of a history buff, so he was very happy to discuss something that aligned with a hobby.

Naoli’s species was similar to the humans of Earth, except that they had only four fingers on their hands and tapering, pointed ears. They had multi-colored skin, like the humans of Earth—multi-colored eyes and multi-colored hair………..showing variations of race amongst their species. Naoli Helios himself had shoulder-length dark-blonde hair, green eyes and lightly tanned skin.

“This _‘religion of light’_ is not an uncommon name to give a religion on most worlds, but information you seek can be narrowed down by looking for alien pilgrims worshipping this religion that visited many planets,” Naoli chuckled. “You would be amazed at all the legends throughout the universe—your story is not even the first one of an alien species that have travelled between universes. There’s a species that basically straddles the universes, though they claim to have origins in a galaxy labeled M78—observations of them are rare, but they seem to be heroes or soldiers of some sort. They are giants, like your race, but not quite robotic—though I have my thoughts they might have some sort of mechanaloid in their species makeup, if you saw what they looked like.”

Lieutenant Helios led Ultra Magnus to a room with a lot of computers in it—so, the Autobot soldier took it to mean this was likely a library system of some sort. The small humanoid sat down at one bank of consoles and began typing in some search keywords in a specific database. A whole slew of hits popped up on the screen as Magnus looked around for a chair that might suit his size.

“It looks like we may have to narrow the search just a little bit more. Your species name isn’t in our databases, but is there another name you’ve been called by other species, perhaps?” Naoli asked, curiously, smiling up at Magnus as he brought a chair over to the console.

“ _Yes_. Well, it is an unflattering name, but appropriate to our abilities. We have been called _‘Transformers’_ by some species in our universe,” Ultra Magnus responded.

Lieutenant Helios tried to put that in as a keyword and it actually narrowed down the hits quite a lot. “It seems there are actually worlds in which they’ve called a species **_that_**. Let’s check a couple to see what they say……..” he chuckled. “Oh, now this is interesting—a crusade is listed on this world. This _‘religion of light’_ was accepted by some on this planet and clearly came from off-world, but it was not accepted by others. Rather than allowing multiple religions to develop, some on this world wanted to keep it set under one single religion.” Then he frowned as he scanned lower in the historical listing.

“Is there something wrong?” Ultra Magnus asked, the language on the computer not recognizable to him, so he couldn’t read the data.

“There was interference from another off-worlder, who is described as a…….. _devourer_? This interference caused the destruction of this world, but it seems a good many evacuated before the destruction?” Naoli murmured. “The word used here is confusing—it’s not quite _‘devour’_ , but it’s not quite _‘destroy’_ either. The world was destroyed, for certain, but this off-worlder that arrived on it—it’s represented by a word I don’t understand.”

Naoli Helios leaned back in his chair and ran a hand through his dark-blonde hair. 

“ _Mmmm_. **_Conqueror_** might fit. But there’s a verb mixed with this adjective—that’s so strange,” he sighed.

On a world where possibly these Cybertronian pilgrims landed, there was a crusade—a religious war. And another off-worlder came—a single being, by all accounts—and destroyed that world. Could it have been the mysterious Omega Guardians? “ ** _They_** ” had claimed they weren’t done with the crew of the _Lost Light_ and they definitely said something about “ _devouring_ ”. They also claimed they crossed or touched _every universe_ in existence. If the word to describe this thing was strange, like Naoli claimed—it seemed to be something that might have the Omega Guardians’ mark on it.

Conquest and the marks of war, those were _definitely_ traits of the Omega Guardians, as well. This might need to be a quest they **_needed_** to go on after all.

“Lieutenant Helios, let us see if we can compile more data before I bring it back to my captains. It seems that this is very interesting and I do believe we should look into it, but we need to find a place to actually, physically start,” Ultra Magnus said to the alien morale officer.

“This is _my_ forte— ** _history_**. You can count on me,” Naoli chuckled, focusing back on the screen in front of him.


	2. A Shadow of Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rodimus and Thunderclash make a new friend an ally as they search the planet Berial for clues to their alternative universe ancestors. Meanwhile other members of the crew go to other planets and do.........research, lots of research in Libraries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a long one. I'm doing tons of setup here and, yeah, reading about characters doing research in a Library probably is boring as all heck. XD
> 
> But there's a giant space kaijuu............and my homage to Ultraman Orb with a mild bit of crossover here.
> 
> And the Lost Light crew gets a new member that is semi-familiar. :)

_ Chapter Two: A Shadow of Death _

The planet that Naoli Helios had found with the off-worlder that had interfered with the pilgrims of the religion of light was part of a larger “ _fraternity_ ” of systems. Three star systems comprised this fraternity—what that meant was, _before_ they had joined the Galactic Alliance, these three star systems had consolidated something amongst themselves that would be similar to what the Galactic Alliance was. Between themselves, they shared science and technology. They traded foods and materials. **_They were all strong together_** —even though they had varying species of many different types, that could survive in a variety of environments.

For better or for worse, it seemed the “ _religion of light_ ” had a great influence on this fraternity of systems. There were some worlds in the fraternity that accepted it and some that outright rejected it—and then there was the scarred world where the off-worlder clashed with a priest of the religion of light. The scarred world no longer had residents and inhabitants on it—they moved off to other worlds in the fraternity—but it was in use as a research facility and various factories to mine for elements used on other worlds in the fraternity.

“Welcome to Berial,” the bulky, lizard-like being said in Galactic Standard, making a cursory glance up at Thunderclash and Rodimus.

Members of the _Lost Light_ crew had been assigned to visit various worlds in the fraternity of systems, to find out what they could learn and then to compile all of the information and see where it might lead to next. Since Berial had been devastated and scarred—Megatron and Ultra Magnus thought it should be left to the two most charming members of the crew to easily ask around for information on that world. There was nobody more charming (that was _still alive_ , sad to say) than Thunderclash or Rodimus—so it made the most sense to pool their charm together on Berial.

There were several species from the fraternity of systems working here on Berial. The lizard-like people were the natives to Berial. So, they were the most common to see, working in the various buildings. The largest members of the various species in the fraternity of systems, they were very strong and very durable. They were primarily bipedal, but when needed, they could use their long forearms to assist in running at much faster speeds in a quadrupedal form, than over the bipedal form. Their brief forms of clothing were more for modesty sake, because many of them had spines on their arms and a colorful sail-like set of spines along their back. They had trapezoidal-like heads and a couple rows of sharp teeth—clearly their ancestors were vicious predators, but now they’d evolved into something a little more “ _civilized_ ”. To compare to Rodimus’ size, the lizard-like natives came up to almost the center of his chestplating.

Other species from the other worlds in the fraternity of systems were not as large as these natives, but had fantastic body designs and different kinds of forms—there were bird-like people, anthropomorphic felines and lupines. There was a species that looked like living boulders that could actually fold themselves down into a boulder and then unfold into a two-armed and two-legged “standard species” form. The variety was interesting, to say the least!

“ _Thanks_. We had an appointment with a Professor Xiahl?” Rodimus said, nodding politely and smiling at the lizard-like being.

“ _Mmmmm_. Then you would be Captain Rodimus from the travelling vessel, the _Lost Light_?” The lizard-like being asked, looking both Autobots up and down very carefully for several moments as his left hand typed on a keyboard of some sort.

“ _Yep_. That’s **_me_**. This is Thunderclash, a member of the command chain as well,” the flame-colored mech introduced, keeping a warm and open tone in his voice. He tried to let his kindness towards others show through, so the aliens here would be more favorable towards them. 

“Follow me,” the lizard-like male grunted. He led the two Cybertronians into a large, open-ceiling area. “Wait here in this room until I can bring Professor Xiahl out to you,” he added, motioning around the expanse of the room.

Given that it looked like some of the hallways could clearly not accommodate someone of Rodimus’ height and definitely not someone of Thunderclash’s massive frame—it made sense to have the two of them wait in the open-ceiling central room. It looked like the lizard-male had to duck quite a lot to get through the doorway to the hall where he went to. It was a building that maybe wasn’t made for the native species, but made for the other species come to research and develop on the planet.

So, Xiahl had to have been one of the other “ _smaller_ ” species they’d seen on the planet so far, not a native.

Thunderclash strolled around the area, looking at the architecture of the building and Rodimus just stood in the center of the room and looked up into the clear, grungy-grey-colored sky. After about a ten-minute wait, the lizard-male came back with a smaller-sized being, in comparison to him. She was clearly a feline-based lifeform, with a general body shape similar to an Earth humans—except for the feline features. Her ears were of a strange, folded, variety—not pointed like most Earth felines’ kinds of ears, but they looked like they had some kind of joints in the fold of them……….which perhaps said the ears of this particular feline-being maybe folded out and became larger and dish-shaped, to catch softer sounds around her. Her human-shaped body had fur on it, likely all over it, but she wore a light outfit of a tanktop and shorts, with a pale tan labcoat kind of jacket—all of it’s pockets were filled with instruments and/or writing tools—so, neither Rodimus nor Thunderclash could determine if she were fully furred on ALL her body for certain or not.

She didn’t have styled hair as humans and many humanoid species had, but she had like a stiff, bristled “ _mane-like_ ” kind of hair that started from the center of her forehead and went in a straight mowhawk line across the top of her head and down her neck, probably ending around the area of her shoulderblades. There was a long tail that poked out from her clothing and twitched a little bit like a normal Earth feline’s. Her fur color was an odd mottled orange and brown (and varying shades in between), while her eyes were a vivid blue-green.

“Welcome Captain Rodimus, crew member Thunderclash,” Xiahl said, dipping her head politely. Her Galactic Standard had some slight hisses in bits of pronunciation, likely due to her native language having such tones. “So, you’ve come to ask about the Scarring.”

“It isn’t our intention to bring up bad memories for the people in this system, but we heard it might involve some ancestors of ours and we were very curious about them,” Thunderclash said in a soft and warm tone.

Ultra Magnus said that at this point in time—besides the Trylians—only a few command members of the Galactic Alliance and the Galactic Ranger Patrol knew they had come from an alternate universe. It wouldn’t be beneficial to blab about it to every single species they came across. So, they had created a cover story of being descended from these pilgrims spreading a “ _religion of light_ ”. But they had been travelling for a long time and exploring, so they’d lost contact with their ancestors and were now looking to find their kin once again.

“It’s no issue. What’s done is long since done and it was not the doing of your ancestors, it was the doing of the off-worlder who fought them,” Xiahl explained, motioning to the two of them as she walked down a tall and long corridor to lead them to a vast mountain overlook. “Time heals the wounds, even if scars are left. It was a benefit that our ancestors had the fraternity of worlds, so those who had survived were able to be taken to other planets within the three systems. Berial had a chance to settle from the conflict and a coalition formed to see what could be fixed or salvaged on this world.”

Rodimus looked out over the landscape. It was a bizaare view—one could clearly see that it looked like something massive carved a deep canyon across the planet, for nearly as far as one could see. But time had worked on “ _healing_ ” the planet—the canyon was overgrown with lichen and other plants. It was a softer fracture in the land than it probably had been when it was fresh and new.

“In the end, this event actually gave us a planet to explore to the fullest. We can’t expand on it and build endless cities—as a more cultured world might have—but we are able to analyze and explore every micrometer of the planet,” the female feline-being chuckled, waving an arm in front of her and drawing their gazes across the expanse. “As you may note, the Berian descendants that have returned to this world had chosen to come back to their ancestors’ homeworld and monitor the ongoing exploration and use of this world. Many of us are here with the absolute consent of the Berian Refugee Coalition.”

“Is there anything you can share with us, about what happened—about our ancestors who came here and the one who fought with them?” Rodimus asked, looking down at Professor Xiahl.

“I prepared a datadisc for you of the historical information we have, but I felt you may wish to see the impact zone—the area where that canyon originates,” Xiahl said, chuckling softly. “There can often be something learned, even when time may have buried it, when you view the point of history where great events have occurred,” she added. Then she explained that she’d acquired permission for the two Cybertronians to travel to the area where the supposed great battle occurred between the off-worlder and the Cybertronians who came to Berial to spread their “ _religion of light_ ”.

That meant it was time for Rodimus and Thunderclash to take to their alt modes and do some driving. There were some worn dirt roads that led to the point of origin of the massive canyon and the drive would take a couple hours by the information on their GPS systems. The data on the planet of Berial had been provided by Professor Xiahl.

“What do you think we’ll find there, Rodimus?” Thunderclash asked, keeping closely behind Rodimus on the narrow dirt road.

It had been determined that Rodimus would take the lead, since his alt mode was smaller and more maneuverable than Thunderclash’s. Just in case they ran into road hazards or any other problem, Rodimus could have better warning and stopping ability than the larger mech would. Plus, the smaller vehicle would kick up less dust than the larger one—therefore Rodimus wouldn’t be driving half-blind, as he would have if he were behind Thunderclash on the old dirt road.

“It’s a good question. Magnus wonders if the off-worlder in this tale might be one of the Omega Guardians,” the flame-colored mech answered, his tone serious.

“We _still_ don’t know very much about them,” the old Autobot hero answered with a deep sigh. “We don’t know what they’re truly capable of. That one speaking through the Magnificence—making us believe it was Epistemus—he simply said that once you elevated to those higher _‘planes’_ , you couldn’t come back.”

“They wanted species to be able to manipulate into shaping the universes into what **_they_** wanted,” Rodimus said, a tone of anger in his voice.

“Is _that_ who they are?” A new voice said in oddly-accented Galactic Standard.

Rodimus nearly spun-out as soon as he felt a light pressure on his top-hatch—meaning someone or something had just managed to climb on top of him while he was driving. As soon as he screeched to a halt, Thunderclash stopped behind him and had to use external fans to clear the dust-cloud that obscured his vision.

“My superiors have asked me to look into this strange threat from the past of this universe, because it is apparently causing trouble on some worlds in other dimensions now,” the monoaural voice chuckled as the form jumped off of Rodimus’ top-hatch and landed neatly on the ground in front of him.

The…….. ** _person_** …….looked like a human being from Earth, but he certainly didn’t “ _feel_ ” like one. Rodimus and Thunderclash got a _very strong_ sensation like an EM field from the human-like man before them. He had dark hair and dark eyes and dusky skin, like a human from the Asian regions on Earth—plus he was also wearing clothing resembling something from Earth and carried a travelling bag over his shoulder. He was wearing a worn leather hat and worn leather jacket.

The two Autobots spoke to each other in soft Cybertronian for a few moments, debating on whether they wanted to transform into their primary forms. The strange human-looking man tilted his head at them with curiosity.

“I haven’t heard that language spoken much before. I guess I haven’t encountered your kind before, but maybe you’re related to the one I’m going to see,” the man chuckled. “He sometimes speaks with a language similar to that I’m told.”

That statement made the two Autobots definitely pause.

“ _Who_ are you going to see?” Rodimus asked, his tone very reserved and he was careful not to say anything about what—or if there was even a **_WHO_** —that they were going to find at the impact point Professor Xiahl had recommended to them.

“Believe it or not, an _ancient robot being_ ,” the man responded with a smile. “And I’m getting the feeling that the two of you are also robot beings, using a vehicle form right now. I can’t say I am all that different, since I have another form as well,” he added with a light little chuckle.

“You are a _strange person_ —are you from Earth, because you look like you’re from Japan or something?” Rodimus asked, a small tone of curiosity in his voice.

“ _Oh! So, you’ve been there!_ ” The man laughed. “I have a fondness for the planet—a lot of my kind actually do, but I’m not from there.”

“You really **_are_** strange,” Thunderclash laughed softly. “Then are you from the M78 nebula, like we might have heard some of you universe-hopping beings are?” He asked.

“ _I’m_ not, not directly anyways…….but others of my kind are. There are many of us from other places anymore, though many of the older ones are directly from M78,” the human-looking man added. “I’m associated with a planet known as O-50, but not in this universe.”

“I see,” the heroic old Autobot murmured. “My name is Thunderclash. This is Rodimus, the captain of the ship we’re on,” he said, by way of introduction—even though neither of the two Autobots had transformed into their primary forms yet. The strange human-like male didn’t seem to be disturbed by “ _talking to cars_ ”, however—he seemed to take it as something of a normal instance in his life.

The man laughed. “I suppose I should’ve introduced myself before we had an entire conversation,” he said, reaching up to remove his hat and then he dipped his shoulders politely. “I answer to **_Gai_** _—Kurenai Gai_ ,” he said, smiling at the two vehicle Autobots. Then he placed his brown leather hat back on his head. “So, _are_ you going to see the ancient robot who lives at the end of this long path?” He asked, curiously.

“Well, we didn’t know there was someone there—the Professor we talked to said that we should see the impact point of the battle that created this canyon,” Rodimus answered, keeping it simple and not getting into the details of why the _Lost Light_ had come to this fraternity of systems to investigate possible contact with members of their own kind. It wasn’t that he was getting a bad feeling about this human-like alien, however, it wasn’t in Rodimus’ nature to just open up to anybody who walked by.

“Well, I am hoping this robot is still there. Seven-san said that I needed to speak to him, because he knew the most about the conflict with this aberration, now causing problems throughout the universes,” Gai said with a sigh as he placed his hands on his hips and shook his head.

Rodimus and Thunderclash once again spoke to each other in Cybertronian, about the Omega Guardians and what the alien species that this human-looking male might belong to. They wondered if this strange alien might actually have more information about the Omega Guardians than they had—since he clearly travelled across universes. It might be best to share information and help each other out, in the end.

“Here, ride along with us—just not **_on_** my top-hatch this time,” Rodimus said, smoothly, sliding the top-hatch open so the human-like male could sit in his driver or passenger seats. “Do you know anything about the Omega Guardians?” He asked, as soon as they started back driving on the worn dirt road.

“I haven’t heard of anything by that name, but it isn’t unusual that species that cross universes may have different names across them,” Gai responded, relaxing in the passenger seat of the flame-colored all-terrain racer. “Before I became aware of my destiny and heritage as an Ultraman—when I believed I was a mere mortal being—I vaguely knew of what they were, but never by name. On many planets, Ultras are simply referred to as _‘giants’_.”

“I can’t say that I’ve heard of _that_ species, either,” Thunderclash said, from behind Rodimus. His voice more muffled to Gai than to the flame-colored Autobot.

“Ultras are fairly secretive, but we believe in peace across the many universes—in that way, we’ve almost become a police force of a sort,” the human-like male responded. “The alien we’re seeking has crossed many universes, but this one—this planet—seems to be the last one it was located on before it began to cause havoc more recently in a universe closer to where I was. While others deal with it, I was asked to go seek information on this world in this universe and to prepare for battle.”

“Seeing that this off-worlder fought with some that might be our kin here on Berial, long ago…….it may be possible that you could get some kind of information. But if you have information on the Omega Guardians—we’d really like to know, because they gave us problems where we came from, as well,” Rodimus said, revealing a little more, but still keeping most of his information close right now.

“ ** _Berial_**? This planet is called _‘Berial’_?” Gai said, the tone in his monoaural voice changing into something that sounded a little bit more worried than before.

“Yeah,” the flame-colored Autobot responded, looking through his dashboard’s camera optic at the human-like male seated inside of him.

“That can’t be a coincidence, not recently with Belial-san having……….?” The man mumbled, almost to himself, rubbing his chin thoughtfully and disappearing into his own thoughts.

“Isn’t that the name of an Earth human’s demon species or something?” Thunderclash said, checking his Earth dictionary when it netted a search ping in his databanks.

“On some Earths, it is,” Gai responded, almost absently. “It’s also the name of a very evil Ultra. Most Ultras are not evil, but Belial-san most _definitely_ is. He wasn’t always, but he chose that path in the end.”

Rodimus couldn’t help but think of Megatron. Could those who tread the path of darkness ever truly walk the path of light? Given the situation that had recently occurred and Megatron’s primal regression—the flame-colored mech couldn’t help but feel a little bit of despair that maybe people were right and Megatron couldn’t change to “ _good_ ” forever. If that happened………… _if that happened_ , Rodimus would rather be dead than to try and go on anymore.

“Is something wrong?” The human-like alien asked, sensing that a mood of depression had fallen over the Autobot whom he was riding along in.

“Nothing _you_ can fix, Gai. Do you think that someone who’s fallen can truly be redeemed?” He asked, curious to hear what this complete stranger may think of a situation.

Gai leaned back in the passenger seat and closed his eyes, a slow smile crossing his face. The last he’d seen of Juggler—his old companion, and then enemy, and finally rival—the man had said he might want to fight for justice. Though, granted, he gave up far too quickly and Riku had taken all the credit for being the “ _big hero_ ”. But the last he’d seen of Juggler—he appeared to have changed somehow, he seemed better and not as………. ** _mad_**. Once Juggler had wanted to be the hero of light and though Orb’s light had chosen Gai instead—Gai thought that Juggler still had some light within him and could be “ _good_ ” one day. Or at least……….mostly good.

And there wasn’t just that. Belial may have embraced the darkness, but _another_ Ultra had nearly taken that path—had also been exiled—but he had been redeemed and was now one of the greatest Ultra Warriors that there could ever been. To think that Zero could have fallen as Belial did, but he chose a brighter path in the end—yes, that was another reason for Gai to think that even when you sink into the darkness, you could still find your way into the light. Even if Belial was a very visible example for the futility of redemption.

“I would never give up on hope for such a thing, Rodimus-kun,” Gai said, quietly, leaning forwards and looking at the lights on the dashboard panel. “As long as someone wants to find the light, they will make their way onto that path,” he added, reaching out a hand to lightly pat the dashboard in front of him.

Relief washed over Rodimus. He really wanted that happy ending for him and Megatron. He wanted, more than anything in the universe, to believe that Megatron had chosen a better path and wanted to “ _be good_ ” for the rest of his life.

* * * * *

“I’m glad to have your historical expertise with me, Nautica,” Megatron said as they walked through the stacks of the massive central library on the world of Complent.

“I’m happy to help, Captain, _really_ ,” the Camien femme chuckled softly. “It’s nice to take a break from the engine room every so often, for **_other_** hobbies.”

Megatron smiled as he took a large tome off the shelf above his head. The species on this planet were massive “ _rock-giants_ ”—history was incredibly important to them, as they lived very long lives. So, they had thousands of large libraries all over their planet of Complent. They were also very precise and………. ** _very wordy_**.

All of the books were **_HUGE_**. Even “ _short histories_ ” were thousands of pages long.

However, from the information that Ultra Magnus got from Naoli Helios—there were several planets in this fraternity of systems that had either interacted with or had historical documents relating to the possible Cybertronians that may have spread this “ _religion of light_ ” across this universe. Members of the _Lost Light_ crew had been assigned to explore or research what they could across the various planets. Megatron and Nautica, along with Roller as a bodyguard/companion, had come to the planet of Complent. Rodimus and Thunderclash had been assigned to go to a planet called Berial—to look into a local legend of a battle between supposed Cybertronians and an off-worlder who might possibly be one of the mysterious Omega Guardians. Drift, Ratchet and Brainstorm had gone to another planet in the fraternity of systems called Elejem, to investigate active churches of this “ _religion of light_ ”—when asked why he volunteered, Brainstorm said “ _no reason_ ”, but everyone suspected he was going to go look for something **_sciencey_** on the planet……..so, it was likely only Drift and Ratchet who would investigate the churches. Chromedome, Rewind, Cyclonus and Tailgate had gone to another planet in the fraternity of systems that had the name of Loreign—it was another library-favorable world, which contained historical documents and copies of religious texts from all the worlds in the fraternity of systems.

Out of all the regular planets that might have had data, Complent was the one Megatron and Ultra Magnus chose, because of the _atheist attitude_ of the massive rock-like beings. They weren’t specifically religious. They didn’t feel like participating in any particular religions. Because of that, the command crew of the _Lost Light_ felt that the Complentionists might have honest historical records about Cybertronians that might have visited their planet or interacted with their people, or have records of what may have happened on worlds in the fraternity of worlds. What the rock-people of Complent cared about the most was detailing history with the greatest amount of truth they could apply to it. That made this world the likeliest they might find an honest species opinion of the Cybertronian pilgrims.

“I don’t want to pry or anything, but are things all right between you and Rodimus lately?” Nautica asked as they both took stacks of books and went to sit at a large table to look through them.

Megatron gave a deep sigh. “I wish I knew or understood what happened to me. I feel like we may not be able to get past it until I know more,” the grey-colored mech said. “He’s open and hopeful, but I think he is losing more faith in the _‘future of us’_ ,” he added with a soft little shake of his head.

“He’s changed a lot, I think it has to do with your relationship,” the purple-colored femme said with a light chuckle. “I remember when he acted more like a jerk.”

“To be honest, I think he has good reason to have acted like that,” Megatron murmured, thumbing through pages in a massive tome opened on the table before him. “The war treated a lot of people unfairly and to realize he had been misclassified as a soldier when he clearly was designed for something else— _I’m angry at that_. I can’t even change it—I tried to change the concept of things like that back then and was manipulated into taking a darker path. But the Decepticon Movement was _originally_ meant to give people the chance to be who they are—what they desired to be. Not to be locked into a career based on your alt mode or whatever the Senate assigned you to do.”

“He does seem so much happier to be down in the medi-bay. Velocity talks about how nice he is—the way he talks to people and _‘comforts them’_. She’s saddened to listen to his stories of the past—to know just what he experienced on Cybertron was considered _‘normal’_ for millions really depresses her,” Nautica said, softly, glancing over occasionally at Megatron as she paged through an oversized book with maps in it. “I know all the colonies had their problems and issues, but Cybertron sounds like it was unpleasant overall. It’s hard to tell if colonization was the right thing or if it would’ve made things better for all our predecessors to have stayed on Cybertron instead.”

“I don’t think that’s something easily accepted one way or another,” Megatron sighed, deeply. He rested an elbow-joint on the table and propped his head against it as he turned pages in the massive tome in front of him. “At the time, when the colony Titans left—the expansion was very much desired by what became the Senate. Without outright saying it, they wanted to conquer just as much as I wound up wanting to conquer—and it may be that they programmed me that way when they altered my brain with mnemosurgery. But as population fell and there was the scramble to construct new lives via Spark-splicing, they might have wished they had all those colonists back.”

“Were you _really_ like that, Captain?” Nautica asked, curiously. All she knew of recorded history that she had studied up on, it had almost all been extremely unfavorable towards Megatron. There were few historical records that presented the past of the grey-colored mech in any favorable or honest light. She’d seen a few instances where Megatron had lost his temper and that could make her believe the historical documents she’d read—then the recent instance of primal regression, of course. But mostly, she’d seen this “ _good Megatron_ ” and preferred to believe this was the **_normal_** version of the mech put in command of the _Lost Light_.

“I had become a monster. I won’t ever deny what happened, I cannot rail against it with the fact that perhaps circumstances created me to be that villain—it is the past, it happened, and I won’t deny that,” the grey-colored mech said with a soft little huff in his voice. He looked up and smiled across the table at the femme from Caminus. “We mustn’t forget the past—however horrible it may have been. But that is certainly a mech I have no desire to ever become again. I wish, very much so, to be who I am now. For my sake, for the crew’s sake—and most certainly for _Rodimus_ ’ sake.”

“I like who you are. I hope you don’t have to become the mech in the historical records again,” Nautica responded with a warm chuckle as she got back to her atlas of historical maps. “ _Mmmm_. This is interesting. This is an overview atlas for Elejem—where Drift and the others went off to. It really is a _‘world of churches’_!” She laughed as she turned the atlas around to face Megatron and pointed to the marker icons that designated places on a general planetary continental map—and waved a servo along the abundance of “ _religious sanctuary_ ” markers that covered the largest primary continent of the planet.

“It makes me wonder if they will be able to easily find churches specifically for this _‘religion of light’_ the Cybertronians started,” Megatron chuckled, eyeing the map and its mass of religious sanctuary icons. Then he turned a couple pages in the tome he was looking through and made a soft little puzzled sound. “ ** _This_** might be something. If I’m reading this accurately it is an archived news article about a…….large religious festival on a planet in Berial’s system, the planet Mojam.”

“Are there photos?” Nautica asked, standing up and leaning over the table as Megatron pushed the book towards the center of the table, so they could both look at it. He rose to his pedes as well and drew a digit to one specific picture in the collage of photos opposite of the article. The Camien femme gasped sharply. “Isn’t that……? I mean, isn’t it…… _ummm, **Rung**_?”

“ _Yes_. It’s the one we knew as Rung—who was originally Primus—back in our universe. I would assume that here he is known as Primus,” Megatron said, seriously. “ _Mmmm. **This femme**_. I recognize her—isn’t it the one we knew as Solus Prime?” He asked, looking at Nautica, knowing that Solus Prime was the one who founded the colony of Caminus with the Titan by the same name.

“Wouldn’t that mean that there’s a large gap of history that didn’t happen for this universe’s Cybertron? The wars of the Thirteen Tribes?” Nautica murmured, knowing that the age gap between a mech like Primus and femme like Solus Prime was a very long length of time.

“Perhaps when we think of the fact that we bent time and universe to get here, it may not be all that far-fetched to think that time was different here for Cybertron, not just history itself?” The former Decepticon warlord chuckled softly. “As you pointed out during our encounter with the quantum duplicate of the _Lost Light_ —that both existed at the same time, though it seemed some events they had went faster than the crew that believed themselves _‘original’_ did. Then we add in Brainstorm’s study of time and effects of time travel. Would it not be possible to think this _‘alternative Cybertron’_ may have experienced a compressed history of events that ours may have had?”

“I suppose, given everything we’ve experienced, _almost anything_ is possible,” Nautica murmured, folding her arms across her chest. “I wonder if we can get scans or copies from these books? Let me go ask one of the Librarians.”

Megatron nodded and sat back down in the chair to start looking through another of the books he’d taken from the Library stacks. He also sent a brief glyph-message to Ultra Magnus saying that they’ve managed to find at least some snippets of useful information and might be able to bring back copies to the ship. Nautica returned shortly with one of the Librarians, who had wheeled an odd machine to their table. The old rock-person explained it was a copy-converter—it could scan pages from a book and place the information onto portable data-discs, but had to inquire if they had the technology to read digital compact discs before allowing use of the machine.

Then they all began looking for bookmarked information they’d been finding in their books, which held information they thought might be useful. The Librarian saw their line of research and went off in search of a few more books that it felt may have similar information. In the end, Nautica and Megatron wound up being there most of the day and went back to the Lost Light with about a dozen data-discs full of information they might find useful over time.

“We have plenty of time to research all of this, so I think before we dive in—we’ll wait for the return of the others,” Ultra Magnus said, placing the data-discs in a safety box and locking it up securely in the Captain’s Ready Room safe. “After all, that was the decision we made when we came here—we had _‘forever’_ to explore and learn everything.”

“You’re right,” Megatron chuckled, softly. “Have you heard from Rodimus? I sent him a glyph, but all I got was a tag that it was _‘read’_ —he didn’t respond, but he might be very busy.”

“No, I haven’t heard from Thunderclash or Rodimus yet,” the red-white-blue mech responded as the two of them walked back out onto the bridge. The Second-in-Command of the ship sat down in the Captain’s chair and checked the messages. “We have received some updates from Ratchet and from Chromedome on their individual research paths. Basically, they are finding some interesting things and compiling the information to bring back to the ship.”

“Would you like me to take over here on the bridge? You’ve been working all day, Magnus,” the grey-colored mech said, kindness in the tone of his voice.

“Not yet,” the old soldier responded, shaking his head. “I will await some responses back from the others. I’d like for you to go and get some rest—I’ll hand over the bridge in _five hours_ ,” he added, glancing at Megatron with a very serious look on his faceplate. The former Decepticon Leader looked as if he were about to make a protest, when Ultra Magnus raised a servo and cut him off with a wave. “I want you to get some rest, Megatron. You may have the bridge in five hours.”

Megatron relented with a deep sigh and left the bridge. He had come to understand that he was under some kind of mild probation, given what had happened, Ultra Magnus had been “ _de facto_ ” in charge of the _Lost Light_ for awhile now, since Rodimus was unenthusiastic about having command while Megatron was in the current situation he was in. It was not meant to be cruelty, it was simply meant to show to the crew that there was not being any kind of favoritism shown to Megatron, nor to Rodimus—who had been just as foolish when he’d rushed after Megatron to fight-and-hope-to-be-killed. _Rodimus_ was being mildly punished too. The mild probation was meant to try and quell some of the protests that had arisen on the ship in the wake of Megatron’s primal regression. To show them the situation was considered serious and not simply being swept out the airlock.

Megatron and Rodimus were still in command of the _Lost Light_ , but Ultra Magnus had full authority to override the both of them if the situation were necessary. To that end, Ultra Magnus had set up a strict work schedule and personal assignments (such as the recent research expeditions) for the both of them. It was a new check-and-balance system, with the work schedule meant to show that both Rodimus and Megatron took their responsibility as co-captains of the _Lost Light_ seriously. The both of them would have to prove they were still capable of commanding and not simply been given the authority to just boss everyone around.

Before heading to his and Rodimus’ hab suite to take a short recharge, Megatron went down to Swerve’s Bar and got a light Engex.

“You look a bit blue there ol’ Meggers,” Whirl chortled, playing around by spinning his empty glass on the bar’s countertop. He _wasn’t_ being mean, he was simply being **_Whirl_** —which meant he treated people based on his mood at the time.

Swerve grunted and grabbed the spinning glass before the Autobot former Wrecker broke another one with his antics today. “Drink or leave, okay?” The small red-and-white mech said, a bit sharper than he’d intended to.

“ ** _Spoilsport_** ,” the thin, dark-blue-colored mech laughed, standing up and getting ready to leave. “ _Oh_ , heard you were playing a long game of WAC with the old Ultra Magnus……….. _who’s winning_?” Whirl said, standing behind Megatron and making a series of wacky poses. “I used to play that with my buddies before the event, you know. It could be fun. Never played a long game, though.”

Megatron turned on his bar stool to look at the slender warrior mech. “Ultra Magnus has a better build up so far, but I cannot exclusively say who is winning at this point. I have more diverse cultures in my pool, so it’s a lot more to bring together for an alliance,” he answered, carefully.

“ _Bah_ , politics and religion—it’s the whole reason we normally only played local size,” Whirl chortled, doing a pirouette. “That’s more gang war stuff—you can control gang wars better than intergalactic conflict. Not as many pieces or individuality.”

“Empire building is something that takes a lot more patience than you could ever expect—I think Magnus will outlast me in that department,” Megatron chuckled softly, taking a sip of his Engex. Whirl could be highly amusing— _and rather friendly_ —when he was a bit on the tipsy side.

“Magnus has the patience of Primus………… _he’s hilarious_ ,” the former Wrecker laughed, dancing towards the doorway. “I’ll be back when I get more shanix, Swerve-my-buddy!” He giggled, leaving.

“I swear, he is _utterly nutty_ when Cyclonus isn’t around,” Swerve sighed. “You do realize, **_he’s_** the reason Rodimus calls this an _‘illegal bar’_? Though, admittedly, it takes a **_lot_** of Engex to get him drunk……..” the red-and-white minibot chuckled softly.

“Yet Rodimus still frequented your _‘illegal bar’_ ,” Megatron responded with a smooth smile as he turned the barstool back around to the front of the bar.

“ _True_. I miss the days he’d splurge all his shanix here, but it was rather sad to see the state he’d put himself in,” the former metallurgist said with a shrug. “In a word, _‘disgraceful’_. But I don’t think he wanted to be seen in any other way. He treated himself very badly.” Then the red-and-white minibot sighed as he remembered unpleasant things from the journey, which he blamed Rodimus for—directly or indirectly. “We’re all broken bots in one way or another. At least we’re all better when we’re together like this. We should try to remember that, even when the _stupid_ things happen.”

That made Megatron remember something………..

_“The Last Light’s unattended. I’ll gather my crew and head back, before…….” Megatron trailed off._

_“ **No** ,” Rodimus said, sharply, practically leaning up into his faceplate. “I’m not letting you out of my sight.”_

_“ **Still**?” The grey-colored mech grumbled with frustration. “You **still** think I’m going to betray you?”_

_“Who said anything about **betrayal**?” Rodimus retorted, planting his servos on his hips as he stared defiantly up into the older mech’s old, red optic glass. “I just think that we’re at our best when we’re together.”_

It was such a brilliantly simple statement that held so much precious emotion in it. The crew had come to feel the same way that Rodimus had. They were all better when they were together.

And **_that_** was why everyone had come back for the victory lap. The crew had formed a strong bond with one another over the years—and _Megatron_ had become a part of that. That was why he missed them all for the eight centuries he was in the Functionist universe. That was why he was actually _so happy_ to be back. And because of all that, he had discovered an amazing treasure within Rodimus— _his very own perfect mate, for the rest of their lives._

“Thank you, Swerve,” Megatron said, smiling as he placed some shanix on the counter—the fee for the drink, plus a rather substantial tip. Then he left and headed back for the hab suite he shared with Rodimus, to get some rest—as Ultra Magnus had recommended.

* * * * *

Chromedome, Rewind, Cyclonus and Tailgate returned with a wealth of information from Loreign as well. Ultra Magnus did as he had with the information gathered by Nautica and Megatron on Complent, he locked it in a safe in the Captain’s Ready Room. Once everyone had returned with the information they had gathered—then Magnus planned to assign people to go through it and peel away the most useful of the data, as well as allow Rewind to properly store and archive it. An update from Drift and the others on Elejem didn’t have as much data as they’d hoped—a couple of copies purchased of “ _sacred texts_ ” from the “ _religion of light_ ” and mostly photos of the churches they’d found, which had obvious Cybertronian aesthetics in their designs. They had planned to return to the ship soon.

However, Ultra Magnus still had no contact from Rodimus or Thunderclash—and that had begun to worry him. He could see Rodimus in pursuit of something and losing all of his focus to that, allowing him to forget regular checkins and things like that. But he could not see Thunderclash forgetting to do so.

**|Thunderclash. Can you give me a status update? Rodimus is not answering.|**

Ultra Magnus waited patiently for a response from his friend as Megatron read through the reports, sitting in the Captain’s chair on the bridge. He stood at a respectful distance behind Megatron, as he waited to get a response glyph from the old hero.

**|Later. It’s complicated here. We’re busy sorting through it all.|**

Complicated? Ultra Magnus frowned deeply. Why would looking for information become “ _complicated_ ”? Had Rodimus done something to make it complicated? He was about to glyph Thunderclash back to ask for more details, but received a “ _busy_ ” glyph warning that the old Autobot hero wouldn’t be answering anymore glyph messages for awhile. So, the internal messaging system would put a delay on messages until Thunderclash had time to respond to them again.

“Is there something wrong, Magnus?” Megatron asked, turning in the chair to glance back at the old soldier curiously.

“Thunderclash just informed me that they’re busy and it’s complicated,” Ultra Magnus responded. “It doesn’t sound like they need help or are in danger, but remember……we sent them for their charming ways. And they may possibly have to do a lot of charming where they’re at on Berial.”

“Are you trying to tell **_me_** not to worry?” Megatron chuckled. “I trust in Rodimus. When he sets his Spark to something, he goes for it. And Thunderclash will prevent any unnecessary recklessness.”

Just then, the bridge door opened and the trio that went to Elejem came in. Their EM fields were a flurry of different emotions—mostly positive and pleasant ones. Ratchet gave the compiled data slugs to Ultra Magnus who walked back to the Captain’s ready room to put them in the safe, then the old medic dismissed himself to go down to the medi-bay and “ _finally relax_ ”. Drift was hovering and trying to show Ultra Magnus some of his pictures of architectural designs from the various churches.

Brainstorm had stopped right in front of Megatron and was beaming with excitement. Megatron couldn’t say for certain, but he was fairly certain the scientist was grinning beneath his facial shield.

“All right, what is it?” Megatron asked, propping his head against his servo as he leaned on the arm of the Captain’s Chair.

“ ** _THIS!!!_** ” Brainstorm said with excitement, holding out some strange bit of……..something, **_maybe_** , perhaps technological?

“And this is…..?” The grey-colored mech responded, even more puzzled than before.

“ _CNA detector!_ I mean, it **_totally_** looks like one, doesn’t it?!” The teal-and-white scientist groaned. “Okay, so it’s never been created in a portable form outside of a medical lab…………..but that was no problem! I wanted to see if Cybertronians had indeed been down to this planet or if the religion only spread like a disease and consumed all these alien species.”

“You……….wanted to check and see if any of this universe’s Cybertronians left any of their CNA behind? Well, did you _actually find_ anything?” Megatron asked, waving his free servo to say “ _go on_ ”.

“Bingo! I compared it to what we had of the couple of the five we had………..and whatever else we may’ve had in historical records and we’ve got matches. A surprising amount of them, to be honest—and in our universe, likely from different time periods, but clearly exist or existed in one time period here!!!” Brainstorm gushed.

That matched what Megatron and Nautica had found, when they saw the article with photos of Rung/Primus, with the femme they recognized as Solus Prime next to him. So, this universe’s Cybertron must’ve had a more compressed kind of history—everyone they knew as existing throughout millions of years, existed in a closer and overlapping time-frame before whatever extinction event had wiped out the entire system Cybertron was in.

“To add to Brainstorm’s excitement on what else we found………..I think when the Guiding Hand, or whatever they may have been called in this universe, split up—it was based on religious or political ideas,” Drift added, stepping towards the Captain’s chair. “I think some of the information we found will corroborate that. But it looks like the split up of the five were based on differences and just like any religion or political party, they gained followers on various worlds afterwards.”

“So, this _‘religion of light’_ is broken up into factions?” Megatron asked, his red glass-covered optics brightening with interest.

“ _That’s riiiiiiiiiiiiiiight_!!!” Brainstorm laughed. “I think we can surmise that Cybertron’s system’s location is closer to this area than we originally thought. At the Galactic Alliance outpost, Lieutenant Helios started to get us information and Drift found the murals in that church. So, when there’s a mass exodus, they started out together and from there it looks like this fraternity of systems is where they began to split up.”

It made a strange sort of sense. There was no reason that this universe had to have exactly the same types of galactic positioning coordinates as their own original universe. With what seemed like a chronal compression—having Cybertronians that were never in the same era existing side-by-side here—it was possible this universe had a spatial compression as well.

“What if this universe is closer to the original theoretical _‘big bang’_ than our own was? The theory is that the universe expanded outwards from the ignition event, so this universe may not have expanded as far outwards as our own?” Brainstorm began, twitching with excitement. “ _I gotta tell Perceptor! **OOOOOOOHHHHHHHH**!!!!_” He cried, running from the bridge without being excused or even excusing himself.

“It could be _that_ ,” Drift said with a wry chuckle and soft smile on his faceplate. “I think that, maybe, the Cybertronians split up to follow their own ideals and visions. People on the planets they visited may have liked some of their ideals and that’s how the _‘religion of light’_ began.”

“It doesn’t disappoint you that they’re not complete adherents to Primalism or Spectralism?” Megatron asked, curiously, smiling at Drift.

“No, but it does have me very curious at what they’ve adapted from our core religion,” the swordsmech responded with a soft little smile.

“You’ve been to enough planets that you know species absorb and adapt things they like from other species,” the former Decepticon Leader said, waving his hand as he spoke. Drift used to be a warrior under his command a long, long time ago. So, he knows the swordsmech had seen many places under more circumstances than “ _peaceful exploration_ ”, as they had now. “However, some of the species did take the teachings to whatever comprises their _‘Sparks’_ —that cathedral you and Ratchet visited showed that they do respect and revere the ones who _‘gave’_ them their _‘religion of light’_. I think that’s important to note—I think it shows that perhaps our kind actually interacted on some of the planets more directly and some species absorbed through learning about our religion, taking what they wanted to make their own religions better.”

“Religious distancing?” Drift murmured, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

“Consider this—these three planetary systems call themselves a _‘fraternity’_. Together they are sharing their technology, food, wisdom and their religions. Even if the Cybertronians may have only been to a couple of planets in the fraternity of systems—the sharing they all do would allow it to spread,” Megatron responded with a light chuckle. “As a decent example, Ultra Magnus and I are playing a galactic size of War and Conquest right now—you’re basically building an alliance of worlds among the levels that this real-life fraternity of systems has. Native religions may collide with each other as they spread, but in most evolutions—the conquering religion will absorb what they like of the religions they fight with. But this balances out with the various political ideals and social ideals that spread from world to world within the system.”

“That can generate a win or a loss condition at chaotic random in War and Conquest,” Drift sighed, shrugging his shoulders lightly. The game was based on real combat and tactical reasoning, so it wasn’t wrong to infer something in this game could reflect reality. But it was still _just a game_ ……..

“Perhaps in reality, as well,” Ultra Magnus said as he absorbed all of their conversation in order to add to it. “Berial seems to have been a point of major conflict—the outcome of that conflict seems to have echoed through the fraternity of systems and made them all agree not to let such an event happen again.”

“The scar that has taught them to ally with one another and offer aid to all in their fraternity,” Megatron added with a light nod. “I’ll be interested to see what Rodimus and Thunderclash learn from the scarred world of Berial.”

* * * * *

“That has got to be the **_ugliest_** looking thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” Rodimus whispered as he and Thunderclash hunkered down behind some massive piles of old mountain stones.

On the path before them— _leading right to their goal_ —was a strange bird-beast like thing, standing upon two massive tree-trunk girth legs. There were flaps on the arms, connecting to the weird furry-feathery body— _those_ were its wings. There was a weird pentagonal decoration or armour of some kind on its abdominal area, that had ribbon-like feathers trailing from along the edges. It was stomping back and forth along the dusty, worn path……….almost as if it were _guarding_ the path.

It was also **_HUGE_**. It was larger than Thunderclash and probably almost the height of a _Combiner_. The two Autobots had seen a lot of various size organic creatures in their time, but **_nothing_** the size of this.

Gai folded his arms across his chest and stood stoically beside the flame-colored mech’s boot. “It’s a **_Bemstar_** — _a space kaijuu_ that my kind have encountered before. That seeming décor on its chest—it can open up a black hole and suck anything into it. I’ve seen it do so—from people to ships, even other kaiju,” the human-looking alien man said, quietly.

“Very well, if it’s a monster you’re familiar with—then what do you think it’s doing _here_ , of all places?” The colorful old Autobot hero asked, looking down at the humanoid curiously. “And what should we do about it?” He asked, a bit concerned as the strange beast stomping around the canyon area was way larger than him.

“I do wish I had Cosmos-san’s empathy and intuitiveness towards kaijuu, but I’m starting to feel too many coincidences with this and why Seven-san sent me here,” Gai muttered, shaking his head as he reached up with a hand and removed his hat. “I’ll fight if I must, but you should know I fight with a time limit.”

Normally, Gai would never reveal that to strangers. But right now he felt he needed to trust these two Cybertronians in order to reach his goal. And if he began fighting without knowing he’d have them to back him up……? Well, it was to his benefit to trust these two. And if he ever made it back to the Earth he was familiar with and saw the SSP group again, he’d be sure to tell them he’d finally encountered some good robots in the universe.

“If we can, we should see if we can get around it. What if **_I_** served as a distraction?” Rodimus said. “It looks slow— _and I’m fast_ , plus my bright colors should get its attention in a brown-and-green environment like this.”

“Your vehicle mode should help you avoid any of the blasts it can use, just be careful of it’s vacuum ability—it might try to suck you into it’s stomach,” Gai said, looking up at Rodimus with a serious look on his face. “I’ll keep an eye on combat and if you need help, I’ll rush in. I’ll conserve my power until then.”

“Focus on getting to the oldmech— _I can take care of myself_ ,” Rodimus said with a chuckle and stood up. Then he transformed into his vehicle mode and raced towards the giant Bemstar space kaijuu. He swerved and drove between its legs and the creature let out a high-pitched cry, trying to stomp its feet and crush the flame-colored car beneath him. “ ** _You big bird_** _! You can’t catch someone as fast as me!!!_ ” Rodimus chortled as he swerved around the massive legs and drove up clouds of dust all around them.

Gai hopped into Thunderclash’s passenger side as the truck-mech began powering past the space kaijuu and stayed very carefully out of its line of sight. In less than two minutes, they had arrived at the cavern area and saw the carefully carved settlement. Thunderclash immediately recognized the ancient Cybertronian glyphs on the entryways. Once he stopped in the central area, Gai got out and Thunderclash transformed into his primary mode.

“Is _this_ what you were expecting?” The humanoid-like alien chuckled as he saw the colorful Autobot hero brush a set of glyphs.

“ ** _Yes_** , though I’m still surprised to see it here. We need to find this Cybertronian fast—before Rodimus tires out and slips up,” Thunderclash said, firmly.

“Go and look for him— _I’ll_ watch the combat and be ready to transform and help if I need to,” Gai responded, turning his gaze back towards where Rodimus was driving and weaving through Bemstar’s massive legs and making the giant space kaijuu very angry. Gai was a bit puzzled at Bemstar **_not_** utilizing any of its special attacks—he could understand it not wanting to let loose with the Black Gravity Field down here on a planet, but surely it wasn’t against using its Bemstar Beam or Horn Lightning…….? “Unless it doesn’t think it’s fast enough to hit Rodimus…….” he murmured, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

_That might be it._ Gravity might be something Bemstar utilized, but it was also subject to planetary gravity when actually down on a planet. Bemstar was fast _in space_ , but _not_ on a planet with gravity—especially with a body as large as it had, it was subject to gravity very much so! Bemstar had to use its own beams and gravity attacks to escape the gravity well of a planet to get back into space once it had landed. Bemstar preferred to fight in space or on planetoids without atmosphere or gravity.

All of the sudden, Thunderclash came flying out of the cavern he’d walked into and was slammed into a pile of rocks a few feet away from Gai. The humanoid alien male whipped his arms up and out in a shielding position before him, deflecting the flying debris using his special endurance and durability as an Ultraman—skills a _normal_ Earth human being (that he resembled) most certainly **_did not_** have. He jumped back as a dark-cloaked form shot past him and went to attack Thunderclash while the Autobot was down.

_‘But I don’t sense malice from this attacker………’_ Gai thought. Then he sensed a strange buildup of energy in the air and his head whipped back towards Bemstar and he saw the space kaijuu’s horn begin to glow. _‘No time to waste now!’_ The alien thought, pulling his transformation device out—he held out the Orb Ring before him and flipped a card out in his other hand. “ ** _Awaken! Orb Origin!_** ” The human-like male shouted, scanning the card through the light beam in the center of the Orb Ring.

Within moments, Kurenai Gai had transformed into his true form as a space giant named Ultraman Orb. He rushed into the fray against Bemstar and sent a warning to Rodimus to go help his friend, while Orb dealt with the giant space kaijuu. Ultraman Orb shoved Bemstar’s head up as the Horn Lightning attack released—then it shot straight up into the air, dispersing all nearby clouds. Rodimus, surprised at Gai’s transformation into a strange-looking space giant, accepted the odd reality relatively fast, and sped towards the caverns where Thunderclash was actually getting pounded by a mech in a dark-but-shimmering cloak, who was almost the size of the heroic old Autobot.

Rodimus transformed into his primary form, skidding in the dirt as he wrapped his arms around, where he’d hoped, was the cloaked attacker’s neck or shoulders—then he hauled backwards, pulling both his and the stranger’s frames to the ground. They rolled about, trying to wrestle one another into submission. Then the flame-colored mech managed to flip the hood off of the stranger’s head and was met with something of a familiar face—though it was scarred and missing an optic from the image he remembered of this particular mech’s face.

“ _Censerre_?” Rodimus asked, pulling back with surprise—which allowed his attacker to throw him away and get to his pedes really fast.

Thunderclash, finally having the opportunity to incycle a deep breath and focus on combat, rushed at the dark-cloaked mech and pinned him against a large outcropping of rock near another entrance in the cavern system.

“I am **_not_** this _‘Censerre’_ you speak of,” the mech growled. “My designation is _Mortilus_ ……” he gasped as Thunderclash’s forearm landed on his neck-cabling and added a choking pressure meant to make a combatant submit and disarm.

“ _Hey! You know what………. **that’s fine, too**. You’re Cybertronian— **just like us**!_” Rodimus laughed, getting to his pedes and using his servos to dust himself off. “We’re not here to hurt or fight—we’re here to……. _y’know_ , just gather some information on our kind.”

Then Rodimus looked back and observed that Ultraman Orb drew a giant, weird-looking, sword-kind of object—using the weapon to hit and slash against the giant space kaijuu and kept attacking quickly to stop Bemstar from launching any kinds of attacks.

“ _Orb Wind Calibur!_ ” Ultraman Orb shouted, creating a massive tornado by swirling around his sword.

The intense winds stirred up dust and loose foliage as the crazy tornado enveloped Bemstar, lifting the giant space kaijuu up and then Orb made a sweeping arc with the Orbcalibur blade. With the motion, the tornado launched into the air and flung Bemstar back out into space. The powerful Ultra Warrior glanced in the direction of the Cybertronians, made a salute with his free hand and then jumped into the air. A few moments later, Kurenai Gai returned to Rodimus’ side and gave the flame-colored mech a light pat on one of his boots.

“ ** _That_** _………..was seven kinds of absolutely crazy._ So, it makes sense we’d run into crazy, because we **_always_** do,” Rodimus laughed. “Thanks for the assist, Gai.”

“It was no problem. And I see that you’ve found the mechanoid that we were looking for,” the humanoid alien male chuckled, placing hand inside his jacket and pulling out a strange little machine. He played a light tune on it and walked over to where Thunderclash had Mortilus immobilized.

“ _Hmmm_. I was told that the one who would come meet me would play that tune. You are Ultraman Orb?” Mortilus asked, his optics glancing down towards the alien male, though he couldn’t move his head to glance down in that direction.

“That’s right. Seven-san sent me to see if you had information on the creature calling itself _‘Finality’_ ,” Gai said, placing his Orbonica back into his jacket pocket.

“You’ve **_got_** to be joking. _‘Finality’_? Why do I feel like I’ve been thrust into one Crosscut’s **_worst_** plays?” Rodimus groaned. “Thunderclash……ease up, I don’t think that _Cen—errr_ , **_Mortilus_** is going to hurt us.”

Everyone began to relax. Mortilus dusted himself off and removed his cloak to shake the dirt out of it and then laid it on a rock. He invited them all to come inside and rest while he told them the tale—of how Berial got its scars and why he remained behind.

It turned out that a long, long time ago—as Cybertronians traveled away from their destroyed home planet and system—Mortilus and his fellow council members chose to split up and go their separate ways. It was primarily a mutual decision, so they spread out from this location of three systems and each of the 5 groups went looking for a place where they could happily settle down. Mortilus and his followers came to rest on this world called Berial—they had liked it. It was serene and the natives were curious and friendly with them. Mortilus began teaching them, as he’d taught his followers, how death was merely another state of living— _it should never be feared_.

The lizard like species really liked that way of thought—as their species had been beset by clan wars one after another, all across the planet, death was a familiar way of life…….but it was always **_very painful_**. The Berians and this group of Cybertronians thought they could share this world and each other’s ways— _until Finality arrived_.

It was some sort of strange alien shapeshifter. And it began _eating the planet_ —starting with just rocks and trees, but as it ate more of the planet, it got **_larger_**. The Cybertronians and the Berians got together and tried to fight against Finality. That was when Mortilus decided there was but one thing to do— _he would use his very own special Spark-Ability and take down Finality_.

The five first-born all had very **_unique_** Spark-Abilities—and while Mortilus’ Spark-Ability was hated and feared by many Cybertronians, including his four other siblings……..it seemed appropriate to use upon a creature who was destroying a world by consuming it. Mortilus placed one of his dearest followers in charge and told them to help the Berians evacuate to the far side of the planet or even to try and get off-world if they could. The Cybertronians, knowing their commander’s Spark-Ability, deemed it safer to leave the world with the Berians—they retreated and watched as Mortilus unleashed his Spark-Ability, “ _the Shadow of Death_ ”, against Finality.

It tore a massive chasm into the planet and caused desiccation to the land for thousands and thousands of kilometers around the chasm.

Mortilus thought that the powerful attack had destroyed Finality, however it only put the space creature into a strange state of hibernation—solidifying it into an indescribable kind of stone.

“I thought it would stay sealed forever. When my followers contacted me, I told them to go on without me and find a new home—I **_had_** to stay with this world and fix the damage that I had done. I finally got it to a point where the Berians could return, but by that time this really was no longer the _‘homeworld’_ they’d been born upon,” Mortilus explained with a deep sigh. “When they returned, it was to make this planet more of a research facility and to explore the depths of the world and its recovery.”

“And then Finality woke up?” Gai asked, folding his arms across his chest and shaking his head.

“ _Yes_. I sent out a signal of warning and _your kind_ picked it up, because Finality arrived in one of the Ultra-protected universes,” Mortilus explained, nodding over at Gai. His blue-green optics dimmed with sombriety as he rubbed a rust-colored servo along a worn old knee-joint.

“One of our youngest, _Ultraman Geed_ , encountered Finality on **_his_** Earth,” the human-like alien male sighed. “He and Zero-san took the fight into space and we’ve been fighting or tracking Finality across dimensions ever since.”

“ _Eating things_ —yep, **_that_** sounds like an Omega Guardian to me,” Rodimus grunted, swinging the leg lightly braced across his other one as he leaned back into the stone-carved chair designed for Cybertronians. “I wish we could share more with you, Gai, but we only encountered them in a stressful final situation. It sounds like they’re multi-dimensional and they claimed they would _‘devour everything’_.”

“And you say there are **_more_** of them?” Mortilus asked, curiously.

“The one we encountered inferred that with a _‘we’_ ,” Thunderclash said, shaking his head and frowning. “But we have no idea how many there are and how many have actually penetrated into corporeal universes. It doesn’t sound like it’s easy for them to do so and it usually takes an apocalyptic event to make them a _‘hole’_ large enough to get through—then they have to attach to something in this universe to exist, since they don’t have a corporeal form.”

“ _Cybertron_ ,” the rust-colored ancient mech sighed softly. “The extinction event that claimed our system and the one next to ours could be considered an apocalyptic event.”

“So, then it sounds as if this Finality escaped its _‘other plane’_ during that event and took over a host that it reshaped to suit its purposes,” Gai said, hopping to his feet and jumping down from the Cybertronian-sized chair he was sitting in. “Mortilus-san, thank you for the information. Rodimus-kun, Thunderclash-san…….thank you for your information, as well. I think we’ll need to take these Omega Guardians into consideration as well.”

“Thanks for helping out with the………… _weird space kaijuu_ as well,” Rodimus chuckled. “If we don’t see you again—take care of yourself, Gai.”

“It’s an extensive multi-verse, our paths **_could_** cross again,” the humanoid alien male chuckled, placing his hat back on his head. He walked towards the entrance of the cavern and glanced back. “See you again sometime,” he added with a smile back at the Cybertronians.

And then he vanished.

“ _What a weird guy_ ,” the flame-colored mech chuckled, shaking his head. “But **_nice_**. He was definitely nice,” he added, grinning over at Thunderclash. Then Rodimus looked over at Mortilus. “Are you going to stay _here_ forever? Why don’t you come with us?” He asked, smiling warmly at the ancient mech.

Mortilus dipped his head and dimmed his optics, thinking about the situation. He’d been here for a long time and did all he could to help this planet try to grow back after scarring it deeply with his Spark-Ability. He had to admit, he really **_did_** miss his own kind. It had been millennia since he had interacted with another Cybertronian. And he felt as if he had a lot he could try to learn from these new, younger Cybertronians—perhaps he had things to teach them as well.

“What was that name you called me?” Mortilus asked, smiling over at Rodimus.

“ _Censerre_. _He was_ ………well, basically, he was **_you_** , in **_our_** universe,” the flame-colored mech answered with a fond tone in his voice.

“I **_do_** like that name. Do you suppose your friend Censerre would mind if **_I_** used it?” He asked, curiously, as he rose to his pedes.

“ _Nahh_ , I don’t think he’d mind at all. Let’s get back to the _Lost Light_ ,” Rodimus said, excitedly, as he hopped to his pedes.

* * * * *

Mortilus—having newly chosen the name “ _Censerre_ ”—was of great curiosity to everyone back on the _Lost Light_. There was no doubt he’d make friends and fans as he interacted with the crew. Now they’d move on, to other places where they might find some clues—they’d evaluate all the information that they currently had to see where it would lead them. But, for now, they had a Cybertronian from **_this_** universe who could explain just what happened with this Cybertron and everything else.

“Not bad for a long day’s work, _eh Megs_?” Rodimus chuckled, practically diving into the berth and snuggling up next to the grey-colored mech fondly.

“Not bad at all,” Megatron answered with a smile. Rodimus really _needed_ to have an adventure like this and get some of his old energy back.

Though the story of the human-like alien and the space monster was weird enough, even for those of the _Lost Light_. But to hear that this “ _Finality_ ” creature may have been an Omega Guardian that pushed its way through during the death of Cybertron’s system and all—taking on a mortal container and shaping it into something that could allow it to fulfill its desire of consuming things—yes, that was definitely something to be worried about.

But it was universe-hopping and the _Lost Light_ couldn’t follow that—so they would hope that this galactic force of Ultramen would be able to do the job and take care of Finality. However, if **_one_** Omega Guardian slipped through here—there may be more. It might be possible they’d run into one _eventually_.

**_Possible_**? Megatron was **_absolutely sure_** they’d encounter one. But there was no point to dwelling on it now—it could happen tomorrow or a thousand years from now.

“What next, though? _Yeah_ , we start studying what we got like we were all students at the academy prepping for a quarterly exam……….but _besides_ that?” Rodimus asked, shuttering his optics and cherishing the familiar presence of Megatron’s frame and his lover’s arms around him.

“Follow the trails to the ends of this universe or wherever our Sparks lead us,” the former Decepticon Leader chuckled. He turned towards Rodimus and nuzzled the top of his younger lover’s helm.

Rodimus purred softly, rubbing a servo across Megatron’s broad chestplate.

The grey-colored mech reached a servo down and brushed it over his lover’s hip-plating, then grazed fingers over the groinplating. He felt Rodimus’ need leak out into his EM field and surround them both. It didn’t take long for the flame-colored mech to open his groinplating and press his hips into his older lover’s touch with a soft little groan. Megatron slipped two digits into the wet valve and moved them around easily, brushing the tips against sensor clusters that were eagerly awaiting charge.

Neither of them spoke words or used glyphs or communiques—after all this time, they knew each other’s physical gestures and cues. The _only sounds_ were sounds of desire and sex as Megatron entered Rodimus’ valve with his spike and they reached an overload quicker together than expected.

“ ** _Wow_**. _Um_ ………I think I might need _more_ , though,” Rodimus chuckled, a little bit nervously as he rubbed a servo on Megatron’s chestplating and the other against his lover’s neck-cabling. “ _Sorry_. I don’t want to be desperate and needy, but……..”

“I very much enjoy interfacing with you, my brilliant flame,” Megatron responded with a sultry grin. He gently began to roll Rodimus over, until the younger mech was on his chest, then he pulled Rodimus’ hips off the berth by cupping his groinplating lightly. His palm became damp from pressing against the wet mesh of the flame-colored mech’s valve. “ _This is a nice position_ ,” he chuckled softly, pressing the heel of his palm into the wet mesh folds and flicking the tips of a couple digits over the swollen anterior node.

Rodimus shivered through his whole frame and gave a little whimpering-purr, pushing his aft back to try and press into Megatron’s servo. “ _Can’t………can’t say……….I **dislike** it_………” the flame-colored mech panted.

The friction of Megatron’s palm against his mesh felt really nice. It was soothing and relaxing, he kind of just wanted to rub himself against his lover’s palm for a little while longer. Plus, the teasing flicks against his swollen anterior node made him feel hot and eager. Rodimus shifted an arm beneath him, to rub his own digits against his pressurized spike, rubbing lightly along the orange biolighting of his transfluid pressure line.

“Feels _that good_ , my beloved flame?” Megatron chuckled, pressing the heel of his hand a bit harder against the wet mesh folds and pinched the anterior node between two digits.

“ _Yeah. Really does_ ,” Rodimus moaned, closing his servo around his spike and beginning to jerk it a little harder than mere strokes against it. “ _Ummm_ …….. _think I want your spike now_ ……….” He whispered, reaching out his field with the full sensations of lust in it—touching against Megatron’s own EM field and begging for it with more than just words.

Their relationship had barely been solid for a year now, but at the beginning Rodimus was hesitant and didn’t care much about interfacing. Now, after everything Megatron had taught him about the pleasures of the frame—he came to want it so badly when Megatron was there with him. A part of him wondered if he’d turned into the slut everyone believed he was, but he **_only_** felt like this with Megatron—he only wanted Megatron to frag him. Was that **_really_** being a slut if you **_only_** wanted the mech you loved with everything that you were?

“I’ll gladly give it to you, my beloved little flame,” Megatron purred, mounting his lover and pushing in with one hard thrust. 

They both climbed to the heights and reached another overload before collapsing in a pile of exventing frames. Then they chuckled and laughed and clung to each other until the call to recharge overcame them both.


	3. Sparks and Abilities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mortilus, now using the name of "Censerre" shares things with the crew that takes their voyage in a new direction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Normally I'd next have a GalvaRod chapter, but since I did a standalone short story, I figured I'd skip the next "Torch of Victory" chapter and add one here. So next up is a "Torch of Victory" chapter after this post. :)
> 
> Also..........Star Trek-style science at work in this chapter. I hope it doesn't sound too wacky and out there. XD

_ Chapter Three: Sparks and Abilities _

It had been two weeks since Censerre had joined the crew of the _Lost Light_. He had learned a lot about their adventures from speaking with the crew, loitering in one or more of the bars, reading old public datalogs of the journey—things such as that. The oldmech felt saddened by the tales of war—and to see the scars it so obviously left on the survivors—but he was enamoured of their desire to continue on and find some sort of happiness together on this journey onwards. From all he gathered, the many amongst the crew had come from different factions in the war—and even from other planetary colonies. They had many ways of thinking, sometimes had arguments and the like, but for the most part they were all on this journey together.

Then, for the first time since he boarded the ship—he _finally_ came to visit the medi-bay. It was a _very nice place_ —it made one feel relaxed and welcome.

“Welcome to my medi-bay, Censerre!” First Aid called from his desk in the main area. “Are you just visiting or are you feeling unwell?” The little Autobot medic chuckled, getting up from the desk and walking over to the very tall oldmech.

“I’m fine,” the tall, rust-red colored mech responded, smiling down at the CMO of the _Lost Light_. “It’s one of the few public places I hadn’t come to yet—and to be honest, an avatar of death is generally **_not_** welcome in a medical haven.”

First Aid chuckled softly and made a gesture with his servos that said “ _let me give you the tour_ ”.

“I can see why that would be so, but it isn’t like you’re here to _‘bring death’_ , right?” The little medic inquired, curiously.

“Of course not,” Censerre chuckled. “People have a consuming poor vision of what death really is—that was the philosophy I wanted to spread with my followers, death is nothing to fear and should be welcomed when it arrives.”

“In case you haven’t heard, we’ve had a number of crew who have cheated death many, _many_ times,” First Aid said, taking him back to the isolation rooms and telling the small story of the virus breakout and Ratchet and Velocity making a cure while locked in the isolation rooms. “Captain Megatron, especially, has died and returned more times than should be _any sort of possible_.”

“It means his Spark truly wasn’t ready to burn out,” Censerre responded, glancing down at the small CMO with a fond smile. “We all have timers on our lives, but we are not privy to what they are set to. _True death_ is met when your timer runs out—it may be violent or it may be peaceful, but your death, the method and the timing of it has true meaning to the balance of the universe.”

First Aid rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he walked the tall oldmech down towards the private and two-person rooms, then he briefly explained their purpose—why there were one-person and two-person rooms—before he made a response to Censerre’s observation on the purpose of death.

“Out of curiosity—what would that mean to those who believe death is a cheat to life?” First Aid asked, looking up at the rust-red colored oldmech.

“My brother, Primus, and I argued this many times—it is one reason, out of many, why we _needed_ to go into different directions,” Censerre laughed warmly. “The universe, in general, has a _harmonious balance_ —and though you do not see it with your own optics…….for every life there is a death and every death heralds a new life. When you die, here—a new life may be born on the other end of the universe. Death is **_not_** to be feared, it is merely an end in one place that brings about a new life somewhere else.”

First Aid had to admit it—that was a very wonderful way ( _and extremely poetic_ ) of looking at things.

“How many times have you performed a specific operation—one time is successful and another time is not, even when you have done all the same things and invested the same effort? Then the medical field calls it _‘statistics’_ and comes up with this range of success or failure for one procedure or another,” the tall oldmech said as they both came back into the main lobby area of the medi-bay. “But it is simply that being’s time—it isn’t whether you have failed or you have succeeded in your medical procedure, or a number for your statistics. Console yourself with the fact you are an excellent medic and a failure is not a reflection upon your skills, it was simply that being’s timer was up and it was their moment to make room for a new life to come into the universe.”

“I would like to keep that in mind—however, I **_do_** enjoy my numbers and all those statistics,” the small Autobot medic chuckled warmly. “Good afternoon, Rodimus—are you here for a shift?” He asked as he saw the flame-colored mech enter the medi-bay and look around.

“ _Yeah_. Megs and I need a little space right now, while we’re both off-shift. He’s gonna play more WAC with Magnus and I thought I’d check in and make myself useful here while Thunderclash has the bridge,” the brightly-colored Autobot said with a sigh. “Hey, Censerre—how’s life goin’ for ya here on the ship?” Rodimus asked as he went over to the clerk’s desk near the door and began checking messages to see if anything needed to be done right away.

“It’s all fine. You have a lovely ship and such energetic crew, I like them a lot,” the rust-red colored oldmech chuckled warmly. “So, you’re the Captain and you work in the medical bay?” He asked, curiously.

“More of a belated life-choice— _long story_ , like almost everyone’s story on this ship,” the flame-colored mech laughed, plopping down in the chair and began to sort through a few patient file datapads on the desk. “I like being down here—it’s warm and one of the few places I truly feel comfortable.”

“I see,” the oldmech responded, reaching up to rub his chin thoughtfully.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you—you talked about your Spark-Ability. What makes that different than a point-one-percenter or an Outlier?” Rodimus asked as he put the datapads in alphabetical order and stacked them neatly on the corner of the clerk’s desk.

“I am uncertain of the terms you’re using, so I’m not sure I have proper comparisons,” Censerre said, the tone of his voice a little bit puzzled.

“Okay—let me in on this. A _‘Spark-Ability’_?” First Aid said, his EM field actually rippling with just a little bit of excitement. “To explain for Rodimus—we Cybertronians are ignited with one of two different types of Sparks. There are _‘normal’_ Sparks, which tend to be blue-white—then there are _‘point-one-percenter’_ Sparks, which are green. Point-one-percenter Sparks become Cybertronians with extra-normal abilities, such as great strength and incredible durability. Captain Megatron is a point-one-percenter.”

“Perhaps that would explain why it has been hard to kill him?” Censerre chuckled, smiling down at First Aid.

“It might well be. Now—an Outlier is a mutated Spark. They may be normal Sparks or point-one-percenters, but a mutation of coding in the Spark gives them a special and unique ability. A former crew member of ours, Skids—he was a super-learner, he was able to learn things incredibly fast without being taught,” the small red-and-white medic explained.

“Windcharger, another Autobot, his Outlier ability allowed him to manipulate magnetic fields,” Rodimus said, grinning over at Censerre.

“That sounds close to a Spark-Ability. But for my siblings and I— ** _we_** are the only five to have Spark-Abilities, those were given by Primus himself,” the rust-red colored oldmech said, placing his servos on his hips and glanced between Rodimus and First Aid. “My _Shadow of Death_ , as we call it—it basically drains the life energy to create a powerful attack. I _cannot_ use it without collateral damage, which is exactly why I asked my followers to evacuate Berial before I used it against Finality.”

“It’s a searing kind of energy attack?” First Aid asked, curiously.

“ _Yes_. We all have special Spark-Abilities, which have shaped our philosophies,” Censerre chuckled. “Because my ability drains life-force—it can cause death—that’s why I have chosen to view death as a different state of existence. My brother, Adaptus—he has a _really wonderful_ Spark-Ability. His ability can transform things from one state to another on a molecular level, he can give life the ability to adapt to new environments.”

“I wonder why you all have such powers………?” Rodimus murmured, leaning forward on the desk and cupping his chin in his servos.

“When we are all together, _our power can shape worlds_ ,” Censerre answered with a warm smile. “I do not know if you’ve heard of this concept, but the five of us can _combine together_. When we combine our frames into one—our Sparks all connect.”

First Aid gave a soft little gasp, though his facial expression was hidden behind his facial shield.

“By that sound, I believe **_you_** are familiar with the process—then you have friends who can combine?” The oldmech asked, looking down at the short medic.

“Well. For most of us who became combining teams, it _wasn’t_ completely by choice, but……..yes, _I’m_ one of those. I don’t mind the others, but we were not naturally combined,” First Aid said with a deep sigh as he placed his servos on his hips.

“I see. I suppose the situation of my brethren and I are different. Cybertron, itself—the father we knew as Primus, who granted his name to his firstborn—could take a primary form as many of us do, this bipedal shape,” Censerre explained, motioning with a servo. “ _Cybertron-Primus_ required great energy to even take his primary form, so he elected to remain in planetary mode to conserve energy and directed us— _his first offspring_ —to take care of the new life and developments he placed onto his frame for what became our society. He chose to become our home and source, rather than to travel the galaxy—which was the greatest sacrifice our parent could give us.”

Rodimus leaned his head against one palm and tapped lightly on the desk with his other servo. Given what they’d seen of the Functionist Cybertron and it’s robot-mode, plus the stories of the legendary Unicron, which devastated the colonies……….hearing that a planet Cybertron could claim a primary mode wasn’t really all that out there and unusual. But to understand that this universe’s version of “ _The Guiding Hand_ ” was also a **_Combiner_** , as well—the development of Cybertronian society was really shaping up to be quite different than their own.

“So, did you guys all combine into a giant robot, too?” Rodimus asked, curiously. He wanted to know more about the past of this universe’s Cybertron but Censerre had said he would only provide a little information at a time and he was allowing Rewind to chronicle his historical conversations with the command crew. It seemed to be painful to the rust-red colored oldmech, so that was why he had to chronicle history (as **_he_** saw it) in small portions.

“Oh, certainly not—that would be rather………. _strange_!” Censerre laughed. “No, I suppose you might say we combined to become a…….. _core_? No, **_that_** isn’t right. _Hmmmm_ …….I suppose the closest we may come to anything is **_an instrument_**. Our combined shape was determined by our father, based upon the necessity he had at the moment—and the Spark-Abilities we each had individually,” he added, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “If he had need to clear an area for new growth—then I would be the focus of the instrument and he would use my Spark-Ability. If he wished to forge new growth, then he would use Primus as the focus of the instrument, as his ability is to seed life.”

“Then, in your combined state, you were a _multi-tool_?” First Aid asked, folding his arms across his chest—this was turning out some very fascinating concepts indeed!

“Now **_that_** is a very accurate description of what we were when we merged together!” The rust-red colored oldmech laughed warmly. “We are _meant to be together_ , at least we would have been for Cybertron’s sake, but without our father anymore—it’s definitely best for us to split up and go our own ways. We would argue too much with one another without our father to keep us on a better path.”

“I suppose it’s like that for all family,” Rodimus chuckled warmly, thinking about the relationships on the ship they were on right now. They all felt like one big, mostly happy, definitely dysfunctional family. “But hopefully you can find a place here with us, on the _Lost Light_. Are you okay with the idea that we’re kinda looking for your siblings, too?” He asked.

“I’m fine with that. I like being here with your crew,” Censerre responded with a warm smile. “But I’m certain they’ve all found their own lives, so I hope you’re not planning on recruiting _everyone_ you find!” He added with a teasing chuckled as he glanced at Rodimus.

“ _Ah-ha-ha! **Probably not!** _ I think we just want to learn about our other-universe _‘cousins’_ ,” Rodimus answered with a warm laugh.

* * * * *

Megatron watched as Ultra Magnus refreshed his board as his turn began. A few miniscule icons and such changed places and colors based on the turn’s random event feature. He folded his servos and eyed the changes in Ultra Magnus’ southern galaxy quadrant—the mech had the devil’s luck. He got a full system alliance over the course of the turn, something which took generally months to generate—it had only been a couple of weeks. 

Of course, the drawback was in the randomly generated board—the old soldier wound up with twelve systems in his galactic quadrant, while Megatron himself only had eight systems in his northern galactic quadrant. In those statistics, Megatron could technically generate a full quadrant alliance before Ultra Magnus, with fewer systems to consolidate. However, Megatron was finding himself more variation of species and religions in his systems—whereas a couple of Ultra Magnus’ systems had a general “ _similar species_ ” development, which was a bonus that favored alliance-making. It was never a guarantee that species that looked alike and had similar genetic developments would actually form an alliance, though—but it was far more favorable odds that an alliance would form as opposed to species that looked dramatically different from one another.

“In the exploration vector that brought UM-Three to UM-Four, a leading party made the new visitors feel welcome. Peace and alliance talks have started between the two planets in the same system. Generators say that negotiations will need one-month in-game time to decide whether an alliance is favorable,” Ultra Magnus stated, swiping up a holographic chart to the center of the table to show the statistics on the particulars of the event that began on his turn. “I need to run a generator check on the development process on UM-Twelve in the neighboring system. Last turn their age was just entering farming and kingdom stages,” he added, pressing a tab on another holographic window and ran a random generator event declaration for the planet he’d indicated to the left of him on his side of the board.

Megatron let out a little groan as he saw the results. Ultra Magnus truly **_did_** have the devil’s luck with this game!

“Apparently the alchemists have made the turn into science and development has begun on inventions that will change UM-Twelve into an industrialized society—likely by the next turn or the turn after,” the red-white-blue mech reported with a light chuckle.

“I’m going to need to end this after this turn, for today—I’m falling behind on planetary developments. M-Eight and M-Ten in this system are still coming out of ice ages and the dominant species is evolving,” Megatron responded with a soft laugh as he pointed to a system to the far right of him on his side of the board. “I _honestly_ thought I started with a good advantage, but your luck has outshone me so far.”

“A break might be beneficial—to let the generator randomizer rest a little bit. Perhaps next time you’ll gain some traction?” Ultra Magnus responded with a smile. He compiled some more statistics and ran the generator on a couple more of his developing worlds to see if any random oddities would appear, but the rest of his planetary status checks turned out much more normal and traditionally patterned.

The old Autobot soldier finished up his turn. They both did complete save checks before shutting down the holographic board on the table. Megatron got up and got them both cans of Energon from the storage case. Then the two older mechs relaxed back into their chairs.

“Off-the-record, Magnus……..I had a question, or rather an observation, to throw in your direction,” Megatron said, cupping his can of Energon lightly and looking at the table. “I’ve been pondering what we’ve gathered on the existence of these Omega Guardians. Particularly the one that inhabited Epistemus.”

Ultra Magnus leaned back into his chair and took a drink from his can before folding his arms across his chest, then nodded at Megatron to continue.

“Did that Omega Guardian destroy Epistemus?” The bulky grey-colored mech inquired, softly. “Adaptus— _Pharma_ —he had clearly known that Epistemus had taken that form as what we called _‘The Magnificence’_. He **_didn’t_** know about the Omega Guardian that was in it. So, how long ago did the Omega Guardian plant itself into The Magnificence………..and did it destroy Epistemus?”

“You raise a good question, Megatron. It made me consider what Censerre— _this_ universe’s Mortilus—told us about the one calling itself _‘Finality’_ on Berial,” Ultra Magnus responded, leaning forwards and cupping his servos together on the table. “He didn’t state if it was the same entity that destroyed the other world in that fraternity of worlds—and he made the observation of it eating the planet to grow. **_Eating_** —these Omega Guardians seem focused on _eating things_. If we infer that, it may be likely that it _‘ate’_ Epistemus and took his form—not realizing the conundrum of Epistemus being stuck in the form that he was in.”

“Then _why_ was it drawn to him? Why not look for a more mobile form? And what do Omega Guardians gain by _‘eating’_ things?” Megatron muttered, tapping his digits on the table before him.

“Also, importantly, why do events need to be on an _apocalyptic nature_ to open a rift for them to come through? That one inside of Epistemus said that if the rift isn’t large enough, they get stuck—the one whose body became the Warrens died when trying to get through—how large must the rift be, then?” Magnus murmured, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Clearly they don’t have the scientists amongst them to figure out how to emerge safely—instead, they do so violently and through a violent event. Someone with Brainstorm’s skills and creativity could figure a way for them to traverse the planes without it becoming an apocalyptic event.”

“Then what if that’s what it was trying to do by possessing Epistemus? It was seeking one of the highest intelligences it could find in our universe once it emerged from its plane,” the grey-colored mech proposed, rubbing his helm lightly with a servo.

“Thank Primus it never took over _Brainstorm_ ,” Ultra Magnus muttered, shaking his head.

“Or _Perceptor_ ,” Megatron sighed. “The one that emerged in this universe, it _wasn’t_ seeking intelligence—it was seeking _brute strength_.”

“I believe that signals that not all of these Omega Guardians are aligned or easily work with one another, like any species in any universe,” the old Autobot soldier responded. “Consider this, as well— _it traversed universes_. It chose a species that was not only strong, but it chose a species that had the potential to cross into other universes—there **_had_** to be a reason behind that.”

“These _‘space kaijuu’_ that the lawman Rodimus had met explained about,” the former Decepticon Leader mumbled.

“So, as we are posing theoretical ideas about these enemies of all living beings—let me postulate _one more_. What did it change in the Magnificence? Supposing that it _‘ate’_ Epistemus, that is. What did it bring to the table when it took over the form that the smartest member of the Guiding Hand took—or was forced into if you believe legends?” Ultra Magnus began, looking over at Megatron curiously.

It was a very valid question. When the Omega Guardian that possessed the Magnificence took it over—if it had truly “ _eaten_ ” Epistemus—had that meant it suddenly had the knowledge of a member of the Guiding Hand? Would that be why it had latched onto Cybertronians, to manipulate into doing its dirty work—as it had absorbed the mind of one, so it was familiar with Cybertronians because of that? And what was that Omega Guardian’s _original potential_ before it took over Epistemus?

“There are two of them in this universe,” Megatron said, suddenly, as it occurred to him that there was a reason why the creature calling itself “ _Finality_ ” may not have been the same as the one that destroyed the other planet in the fraternity of systems. “This one called Finality may have taken a _‘mortal container’_ that could cross universes, but if there is a second one—it’s still here and it’s not going to make the mistake that it did before.”

“What makes you say that?” Ultra Magnus asked, curiously leaning forwards.

“Because of what Censerre said of Cybertron’s destruction in this universe. It destroyed Cybertron’s planetary system—and the one next to it. What if their emergence is not necessarily due to a rift opening, but the GPS location as well?” The grey-colored mech said, very softly. “If their plane overlaps ours—and parallel universes overlap ours—and _they exist everywhere_ in the planes, that there are many of them……….it means that they are subject to a rift opening in their own personal territory.”

“Then—could the same Omega Guardian push through a rift into _multiple universes_ at the same time?” Magnus said, catching onto Megatron’s train of thought.

“ _Exactly._ The one that ate Epistemus is one of the ones that pushed through in the wake of Cybertron’s destruction here in this universe. It had another within its area try to cash in on its rift opening and pushed through—causing a trigger to take out the neighboring system as well. While the one that inhabited Epistemus’ changed body also inhabited a body in this universe at the same time—it split it’s power and abilities. It isn’t as strong as it could have been, as it’s _‘neighbor’_ was when it pushed through and took over the beast called _‘Finality’_ ,” Megatron proposed, motioning with his servos as he spoke. “Because, if these Omega Guardians were really so powerful to begin with—then why wasn’t the one in the Magnificence more powerful than it was? Why could it not protect itself from what Nickel did to it—odd form or not?”

“It could’ve been _limited_ by Epistemus’ form as the Magnificence?” The red-white-blue mech responded, frowning because he realized their theorizing may be closer to the reality of the situation than expected.

“ ** _How_** limited was Epistemus, though? We _assume_ he had limitations because he became an object, but he may not have had the limitations we’re all assuming. We weren’t able to ask about the reality of what happened to the Guiding Hand, we heard some of the main generalities, which were clearly very different than the legends,” Megatron said, shaking his head. “Epistemus was the fountain of knowledge and history. We don’t have solid records on when he shed his body and became an object—we have legends and bits of stories. And, as we belatedly learned—the Omega Guardians had their influence into many things, seeking containers to inhabit once they could free themselves from their plane. They used living beings to route the courses of history into unfolding in their favor.”

“Then, what if………this is just more theorizing here………Epistemus recognized the danger of this Omega Guardian and actually used his body to imprison it and limit the damage it could do in our plane of existence?” Magnus said, leaning back into the chair again and folding his arms over his chest. “It would work across the universes, if your theory is right that this Omega Guardian split it’s body and……..what if it inhabited Epistemus in both universes? Or what if Epistemus realized the danger of this Omega Guardian and chose to blunt its destruction across universes by using his own frame to imprison it and limit it from doing anything it actually wanted to do?”

“That might be a danger we’re facing as we seek out this universe’s version of the Guiding Hand. Censerre said that they all went separate ways and chose not to contact one another anymore—that it was best for them, without the direction of Cybertron-Primus to guide them,” Megatron murmured.

Mortilus—now Censerre by choice—had skipped about in his universe’s version of Cybertronian history. He did not start from the beginning, nor did he immediately describe what had happened more recently to him—he appeared to be choosing the moments it was easiest for him to describe first. With Rewind chronicling it for him—the old Autobot archivist could easily put history in order with the files later on, so it didn’t necessarily matter the order in which Censerre had told them their Cybertronian history here in this universe.

Censerre had asked his followers to protect the Berians and abandon him to fight alone against Finality on Berial. He did not know where his followers went and he did not want to know—it may have been he was afraid of Finality defeating him or, perhaps, even possessing him. How much did Censerre know? And how much was he still withholding, whether from sadness, ache or even fear? Was it possible he knew that his brother, Epistemus, may well be possessed by an Omega Guardian and that was why he had chosen abandonment from his own followers? In case he were possessed by Finality while fighting it?

“I don’t want to pressure him, but perhaps we need to ask more about his siblings,” Megatron murmured, softly.

* * * * *

“I knew I would not be able to hide much more of this from you—but please understand, I wanted to spare you all,” Censerre said to the six members (plus Rewind) of the command crew currently in the Captain’s Ready Room.

Megatron and Rodimus sat quietly at their end of the table, while Ultra Magnus had scores of datapads in front of him. Roller folded his servos together in front of him on the table while First Aid leaned back in his chair. Nautica gave a soft little sigh.

“Ultra Magnus, Megatron—your postulations are close to being fairly accurate,” the rust-red colored oldmech sighed, reaching up a servo to brush the scarred right side of his face. “The difficulty is—we are still not sure what, to this very day, it was that triggered the event that collapsed our sun-star. Cybertron— _our father and home_ —as well as all of us, we were a young species, still fairly new to existence. I spoke with Brainstorm about mapping the multi-planar existence, at least in the way that Epistemus told it to me before it all………” he trailed off and he sighed deeply. Then he activated a holographic image on the table for the six command crew members to see. “When Brainstorm spoke about the time-compression in our universe compared to yours, I think I began to truly understand what it was that my brother was showing me so long ago. So—this long and straight horizontal plane here, let us say this is **_your_** universe,” he added, pointing to a red plane that was flush to the table’s surface.

“But, shouldn’t those planes all be the same length?” Nautica asked, tilting her head curiously as she saw the fan-like rise of the other colored planes were just slightly different in length.

“Not necessarily. If the beginning of the universe— _of all universes_ —is this event called _‘the big bang’_ , it is the focal point here,” Censerre said, pointing to a big black sphere that seemed to joint-lock all the fanned planes together. “As your universe moved forwards, other universes peeled away and the event pulled them back—so, as the planes of the fan rise, being pulled back by the event, their lifespans are shorter and shorter. Or, as your Brainstorm said, more compressed time.”

Nautica hummed a little, thoughtfully, and rubbed her chin. She thought she understood the concept, but there was likely a lot more science behind it than she understood, but was probably easy for Brainstorm and Perceptor to get.

“So, in quantum jumping and piercing _‘time’_ , your ship most likely did this……..” Censerre said, taking a pointer-stylus and stabbing it through the holographic planes.

By the way the fan-like design was of the multiple holographic planes, the pointer-stylus pierced at different points.

“We didn’t particularly pierce time—we pierced multiple universes whose time was at a different chronological flow than our own,” Megatron murmured, looking at the illustration.

“ _Exactly. **Now**._ As I said, we do not know what triggered our sun-star to go supernova, but the moment that Epistemus and his students saw what was happening, we evacuated Cybertron at the directive of our father—it was very painful for all of us to leave him to such a terrible end,” the rust-red colored oldmech sighed softly. “We made a quick landing on a planet in our neighboring system—to try and find a course of action. That was when Epistemus said something was wrong—and he had to leave us all. When the other four of us firstborn pressed our brother—that was when we caught a glance of something terrible inside of him and he was trying to protect us all by leaving.”

“It was an Omega Guardian—it had to be. The same one who inhabited our Epistemus’ altered form in our universe, split across the universes,” Megatron said, latching on to the theory he shared with Ultra Magnus the other day.

“It may well be. We don’t know what those Omega Guardians are, but from what you told me—it sounds about right. Epistemus left his head student, Ei-Three, in charge of his flock and vanished in a small speeder craft he bought from the inhabitants on the world we stopped at,” Censerre explained, lowering his head and dimming his optics. “We never saw him again, but shortly after—the sun-star of the neighboring system that we had stopped at, something started eating it. _We ran_. Those who couldn’t leave their worlds, _we abandoned_ , because we were scared. That system met its end, as our own did. This was a large argument, that we left behind innocents and ran, between us all and when we came to the fraternity of systems, we began to split up. We took the followers of our flocks and began searching other worlds, trying to find places we could call home and inhabitants we could feel a connection with.”

“It isn’t easy to decide to help strangers—innocent or otherwise,” Rodimus murmured. “So, you started sharing Cybetronian ideals and religion because you wanted to be accepted by other cultures?”

“ _Yes_. It’s a little sad, isn’t it? Instead of seeking an empty world and starting our species over together—we split up and looked to integrate ourselves into other cultures on other worlds, instead,” Censerre chuckled softly.

“So, you asked your own followers to leave you behind to fight Finality on Berial. Were you aware of the possibility of _‘possession’_?” First Aid asked, steepling his digits before his faceplate.

“While we could never say with complete certainty, we were all fairly certain Epistemus had been consumed by another being. In my own mind—it was too much of coincidence about the destruction of the neighboring system to Cybertron and then to face an eerily similar opponent on Berial. A part of me thought it might be the same monster that had consumed my brother and I was worried that if it were—it might take me or one of my flock or any of the Berians as well,” the oldmech responded, finally sitting down in a chair at the opposite end of the table from Megatron and Rodimus.

“Well, we cannot say for certain, but we think that once they take possession of a form in one of our planes of existence—they’re stuck in that form until it dies, or it cannot easily leave the form it possesses. However, we think it can mutate a form and……..we also think that maybe the one we met in the Magnificence might have even tried to create an ultimate body for it to inhabit,” Ultra Magnus said, carefully choosing his words based upon the encounter with the Omega Guardian inside of Epistemus back in their universe. “It was trying to get us to trigger an apocalyptic event for it—to bring others of its kind through.”

“If this Omega Guardian’s technically the same as the one we already met, because it’s possessed the same mech across universes—d’y’all think we should take on the task of dealing with it?” Roller asked, looking over at Megatron and Rodimus, tilting his head curiously.

“ _Yeah_. I think we’d better. Censerre—if you can tell us all about your brother, Epistemus of this universe……….maybe we can find him and deal with the Omega Guardian within him,” Rodimus said, seriously. “Doing anything else at this juncture can wait. Magnus—I want you to try to contact Naoli Helios again and see if he can find _‘apocalyptic events’_ that have taken place from the location of where Cybertron was, outwards—to the fraternity of systems we just left. We’ll see if we can postulate any directions from there.”

What had changed from random exploration to finding the equivalent of their species in this new universe, was suddenly a search for one particular Cybertronian, to possibly confront a familiar enemy.

“I admit, I’m curious—we were in the Benzene Cluster—and the Omega Guardian said it was the beginning. Was that where the entire universe began—the big bang?” Nautica murmured, thoughtfully, looking at the holographic image of universes. “And if so, if that corpse that crossed the universe—which we knew as The Warrens—does that exist here as well, across universes?”

“That Omega Guardian did say the corpse of its brethren existed in _all universes_ —and was focused on the Benzene Cluster as the _‘burial location’_ ,” Ultra Magnus said, giving a soft huff of frustration.

“Then—was the big bang the apocalyptic event that opened it up for that Omega Guardian as it tried to come through into our universe, or all the universes?” The Camien engineer murmured. “And if so, **_what_** killed it?”

That was the question they needed to answer—what could possibly kill an Omega Guardian? That was definitely something they all needed to know, because they might have to make the attempt to do so!

“Too many questions and not enough answers. Censerre—will you be able to tell us if Epistemus is Epistemus, or if he’s not?” Megatron asked, looking over at the rust-red colored oldmech.

“ ** _If_** we can find him, _yes_. I would know my brothers no matter what,” he responded, ducking his head and rubbed digits lightly along his scarred face. “Our Sparks and our abilities resonate—none of us could feel him until we saw a sudden surge inside of our brother before we parted ways.”

“Can you tell us more—at least the command crew here—of those abilities?” First Aid inquired, curiously.

“ _Mmmm_. As I mentioned in the medi-bay, our abilities define us and they are unique. Our father gave them to us to assist him in shaping our world and to be used, primarily, when we are in our combined form,” Censerre responded. “In all honesty though, _Rodimus_ has a very lovely Spark Ability—even my brother Primus doesn’t have a life-affirming ability like that. His is definitely meant to unite worlds and societies.”

All heads turned to look at the flame-colored mech, who raised his hands quickly and waved them. “ _Hey, don’t look at me! I don’t have anything like that!_ ” He protested sharply.

“I don’t know why you feel you do not have such a thing— _it’s proven_. Your words and the way you speak. Your actions when lives are in danger. Organic species call it _‘empathy’_ as an actual usable thing—a power,” the rust-red colored mech said, shaking his head with a light chuckle. “Let me put it this way—from what I’ve read about Ultra Magnus, he’s an amazingly trusted individual, with a vast historical record of truthfulness in his life. If the two of you were to say the same thing to a person, they would simply trust Ultra Magnus because of his reputation—but they would trust you likely more because of the tone in your voice and your empathic nature.”

“Isn’t that just instinct, though—to trust the person trying to help you?” Rodimus said with a frown.

“Partially, perhaps. But your Spark Ability is in the _‘waves’_ of your voice and the imperatives in your Spark—something like this cannot be measured properly or even explained fully, however, how many have gained courage or life from your words?” Censerre said, smiling over at the flame-colored mech, very fondly.

Megatron reached over and slid a servo along his younger lover’s back. “More than you’ll ever know,” the grey-colored mech chuckled warmly. “He doubts himself, more often than not…..but I believe what you’re saying, I’ve seen it with my own optics,” he added as he smiled over at the oldmech.

Rodimus’ faceplate brightened with pink below his optic glass.

“I find that I’m inclined to believe this, as well. We’ve been trying to classify Rodimus with everything we know, but there just has been nothing that fully suits all our tests,” First Aid responded, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “We don’t have the… _Spark Abilities_ …that your kind does, so it might make sense that if that’s what Rodimus actually has, we don’t know how to label it or teach him about it. He’s got a secondary EM field that we call a _‘dermal sensor net’_ —it’s something primarily found in our medics, but also in healer-priests of our native religion. But it’s just slightly enough different from the dermal sensor net that we are familiar with, we’re getting more uncertain of how to train him—since, for our culture, he’s beyond the training years for a traditional medical dermal sensor net.”

Nautica looked at Rodimus with her optics very bright. She hadn’t been aware of this, but then the information wasn’t shared with the general public. Suddenly, First Aid was taken aback. He cleared his vocalizer with a few coughs.

“Please don’t circulate this information with the general crew—those who are in the room and did not know the details. I shouldn’t have spoken about it aloud, Rodimus— _I am very sorry_ ,” the small medic said, quietly, staring at the center of the table in his embarrassment.

“Honestly, it’s going to come out eventually. I guess, as long as nobody’s going to make a big deal about it—I’m okay with a few others knowing,” the flame-colored mech said, reaching over and patting First Aid on the shoulder.

“The kid has a special touch—I haven’t been with the crew as long as others, but even I can see that,” Roller chuckled. “I dunno if I believe in the differences in the Spark colors kind of stuff, but I’ve seen Outliers—it happens. People have a special thing, it shows up every so often.”

“Your ability should be as natural as living. I don’t feel it’s something you need to train, however—if you’re having difficulty dealing with it, maybe just talking about it and trying to figure it out will help you understand it better,” Censerre said, smiling at Rodimus. “It really **_is_** a wonderful Spark Ability—it’s like Epistemus’. It is not an ability with a physical interference effect, it’s something that can make everything around you better. My Spark Ability is feared so much, but it has its uses and purposes. My brother, Primus—it is said his is the opposite of mine, but to infuse energy and life can be just as dangerous as draining energy and life. Things can die or be warped when given _‘too much life’_. Solomus’ Spark Ability is somewhere between Epistemus’ and ours—it has a physical edge, but is mostly a meta-phenomenon. I know you are thinking _‘why would wisdom have an edge?’_ —but have you ever heard of a phenomenon called the _‘sword of justice’_?”

The six members in this command crew meeting all glanced at each other, nodded or shrugged indifferently.

“He can manifest wisdom into a physical form and cleave injustice and unfairness from the body—refreshing the mind, body and program or soul,” the rust-red colored mech said, very seriously, folding his servos on the table before him. “Living beings become clouded, the longer they live—exposed to new things can expand their knowledge, but it shadows their inherent wisdom of what should be right and wrong to them. People often wonder, what is the difference between knowledge and wisdom—knowledge is what is learned, but wisdom is what is inherently known. You feel it in your depths, that is wisdom—wisdom can use knowledge to better itself………to become _the best version_ of itself.”

“You’re saying that Solomus can manifest some sort of energy sword to cut the _‘unseen’_ , but not the physical of a person?” First Aid murmured, very skeptically. He was willing to accept a lot of things, but usually he had some sort of science on his side for that. This wasn’t scientific, nor could it be proven—to be able to cut away “ _injustice_ ” or “ _unfairness_ ” in a body, what did that even actually mean?!

“I know. It sounds ridiculous, but it’s true,” Censerre laughed warmly. “It’s more believable if you saw him do it. It is like……..until Brainstorm provided me with this illustration, I had a hard time believing the multiple universe theory as Epistemus explained it to me,” he added, motioning at the holographic image on the table.

“You’ve given us a lot to think about, Censerre—I feel like we need some time to digest it,” Megatron murmured. “In the meantime, we’ll be exploring avenues to try and find Epistemus—just in case there is something we need to do about what could be inside of him.”

Everyone around the table nodded.

* * * * *

“I dunno, Drift—I feel pretty weird about the whole thing,” Rodimus muttered as they laid out on the mediation mat in the swordsmech’s hab that he shared with Ratchet. “But First Aid and the others, they’re really having a hard time defining my dermal sensor net thingie.”

Both of them were laying so that their heads were near each other, but their bodies angled away. They, also, had their optics shuttered and just relied on their EM fields and sensors to “know” of each other’s presence and mood at the moment. In other words, they were completely relaxing with each other’s company.

“There is the point that your Spark came from Alyon. And nobody knows what the Senate’s experiments did to that birthfield. I suppose it’s not far-fetched to think you might have a mutated Spark of some sort,” Drift murmured, leaning his faceplate closer to Rodimus’ helm beside him. “It may be that because of that—maybe it’s the Matrix was able to form a sort of bond with you.”

“It’s funny, all my life I **_wanted_** to be special—and now that I find out I really am………I’m actually annoyed at that!” The flame-colored mech laughed softly.

“No pleasing you, is there?” The swordsmech chuckled.

“What are you brats doing lying on the floor?” Ratchet grumbled at the two of them as he came into the hab and had to walk around the both of them and the meditation mat.

“Just relaxing, Ratty,” Drift chuckled warmly, onlining his optics and gazing up at his older lover fondly. “Megatron is working and Rodimus wanted some company to suss things out, based on all that’s been going on.”

“I can’t say I believe some of the stuff, either—but it’s not for me to believe. As we all know, I have enough skepticism for the entire crew,” the old medic said as he walked over to his comfy chair and sat down with a datapad. “However, it is true that Rodimus’ dermal sensor net is defying all of our knowledge—as medics and as Cybertronians. There’s a chance that it could be what Censerre is saying it is—we still don’t know what our original _‘Guiding Hand’_ were capable of. Rung was able to create those Matrix devices—he created the original Matrix, apparently.”

Rodimus frowned. Rung did all that—and died to do it. They remembered, cherished—forgot—and now that they remembered again, it might not be forgotten as easily now that they were in a new universe, without the influences of their original one.

“I doubt your ability is one you can die from, Rodimus—so, I wouldn’t worry about that. It seems to be that you have the power to……ahem, empower others,” the red-and-white mech responded. “Not sure how it works, but we’ve always known you to have great charisma. It’s probably a part of that. From what Censerre says—it might be possible Epistemus can explain your so-called _‘Spark Ability’_ , if there’s anything left of him to talk to.”

Drift made a weird little sound.

“Don’t shy from reality, Drift—it will only make things worse,” Ratchet responded in a droll voice. “There’s a very real possibility that all of Epistemus has been devoured by the Omega Guardian possessing him. It’s probably a program overwrite or takeover……..or even brainwashing or mnemosurgery of some strange sort.”

“I mean—Ratchet’s kinda right. In our universe we might’ve seen them as gods to our religions and all that, but here……these guys don’t view themselves that way. They knew a Cybertron that we didn’t, one that had a primary mode and an alt mode—like the one we saw from the Functionist Universe,” Rodimus said, softly, reaching up and rubbing a few digits alongside Drift’s helm, feeling by touch with his optics still offline. “This Mortilus— _Censerre_ —he’s really grounded. He’s a _normal guy_ with a lot of curiosity and, like, the knowledge of your favorite oldmech. He’s nowhere near as cranky as Kup is, but he’s just as nice and friendly. He just also happens to have a _superpower_ …….but so does Megs and so does Magnus, you know?”

“And so do **_you_** ,” Drift chuckled.

“ _Ah-ha-ha……… **I guess**_ ,” Rodimus responded. “ _Say_ ……..I wanna do something really fab for Megs tonight. Glyph me some new position or something I can try out, okay?” He asked, chuckling when Ratchet gave a deep groan directed at the two of them. “I’m still not good at that kind of stuff, but one day I wanna be great. You know, do all this interfacing right—not all the dirty stuff that I let people do to me. I wanna be _better_ , like some people believe I already am.”

“It’s funny, but……..you know, a long time ago—Megatron was a lot better towards Starscream. They had a lot of common interests. I think that’s why Starscream also took the brunt of Megatron’s violence, when it got that way,” Drift said, softly. “That’s why I worry. I worry that something will happen, that Megatron will fall apart again and do to you what he did to Starscream. And you’ll take it for a while, because you’ll keep hoping Megatron will come back to you the way he was.”

“ _Yeah_ , Megs kinda alluded to that when we were talking once,” the flame-colored mech murmured. Megatron had told Rodimus that Starscream was his greatest relationship regret. It meant that Megatron felt something for the blue-and-red Seeker once—and screwed it all up pretty badly. Starscream would often give horror stories about how Megatron abused him—and the vehemence probably came from the fact that there was something better about their relationship once upon a time. “But I’d rather die than give up on Megatron’s Spark—I’ve seen it, I know what’s there and I know that he doesn’t want to go back to the horrific legends of himself.”

“Dying isn’t necessarily the right way to fix something either—that’s why Ultra Magnus also has you on limited work detail, until you fix up your act,” Ratchet said, very sternly.

“Yeah, I know—I’m stupid and selfish and I’m being properly punished for it,” the flame-colored mech sighed, deeply. Then the flame-colored mech sat up and onlined his optics. “Ratchet—even if……. _even if_ what I’ve got isn’t the medical thing, do ya think I’ll be able to stay working in the medi-bay? ‘Cause I really like it there………” he asked as he looked over at the red-and-white mech in the comfy corner chair.

“I, frankly, don’t see why not. It might be better to have an actual nurse-mech over the droids, to be honest. You know, Megatron wanted to be a medic, long before he got put into the mines—I think that’s why he’s really supportive of you in doing this,” Ratchet answered with a light grumble. “I think that’s how he knew about the dermal sensor net, too. As you’ve realized, most professional medics don’t reveal this to the general public.”

“Yeah—I can see how someone could manipulate a medic based on that. I know you guys get tons of training with the dermal sensor net, but a true manipulator could take advantage of it. That’s not good,” Rodimus said, getting to his pedes. “All right—I’m off now. Gonna drop by _Visages_ and sing a few karaoke numbers to a probably-empty bar, then wait for Megs to get off-shift.”

Rodimus hummed a bit as he went to _Visages_ , looked around and then asked Mirage if he could sing for a bit. There were only two other mechs there (besides staff) at the moment, Cyclonus and Tailgate—and Cyclonus was doing some karaoke himself as Tailgate listened with fondness and excitement. So, he knew he’d have to take turns with the dour oldmech. It wasn’t bad—Cyclonus was actually a very good singer, very powerful with his deep voice.

After completing a song, Cyclonus held the microphone out to Rodimus and then sat next to Tailgate at the table near the stage and drank while politely watching Rodimus sing. The flame-colored mech sang two songs in a row, garnering impressive applause from Tailgate and respectful nods from Cyclonus on the skill and passion in the singing.

“Captain—as much as you may mourn your homeplace, do you know any local songs from Nyon?” Cyclonus asked as Rodimus started moving to get off the stage and hand it back over to the purple-and-grey mech, who motioned at him to stop.

“ _Well._ I know an old hymn—the oldmechs in the citadel would sometimes sing it late in the recharge cycles,” Rodimus murmured.

“Sing it, please,” Cyclonus asked, dipping his head politely.

Rodimus knew that it mostly came from Cyclonus’ homesickness for “ _old Cybertron_ ”—and though it wasn’t as old as Cyclonus, it was still primarily “ _pre-war_ ” Cybertron stuff that Rodimus would remember from Nyon. The Decepticon Movement was still just an “ _uprising_ ” and the real conflicts were from the Senate, with members moving towards violence—especially against the Decepticons who were beginning to fight back more violently.

“ _Um. **Okay**_ ………let’s see if I remember all of the words—my old-Cybertronian may be a bit rusty in pronunciation,” the flame-colored mech murmured, walking back to the center of the stage. He offlined his optics to try and focus on his oldest memories, the warmth of his people in Nyon and the kindness of the oldmechs running things at the citadel. He hummed a little bit to try and get the song right in his head before beginning to sing the actual hymn.

When he finished, Cyclonus nodded and smiled at him with approval.

“Thank you—I appreciate hearing a little bit of home,” the purple-and-grey mech said softly, as he took the microphone from Rodimus and then sang a hymn from a time closer to his own much older era on Cybertron. After that, he sung some kind of power ballad, not from Earth though—which made Tailgate really happy.

Rodimus was pleased to see the fondness and bond between the tall older mech and the small older mech. The oddest of people came together on the _Lost Light_ , they formed bonds that they may never have under any other circumstances. As he walked back to the hab suite he shared with Megatron—he knew that under other circumstances he and the former Decepticon Leader would never have wound up together, either. From the moment Megatron came aboard, Rodimus either avoided him or was up in his faceplate arguing—a juvenile stunt of trying to “ _protect his territory_ ”, as it may have been. Even as he argued constantly with the older grey-colored mech—he had watched Megatron change. And he’d been hurt at Megatron staying in the Functionist Universe, it was a feeling he’d had in common with Ultra Magnus.

And then, in a desperate gamble to keep himself away from Cybertron—and to keep Megatron from the probable execution—he’d latched onto Perceptor, Nautica and Brainstorm’s wild plan to use what they’d learned of quantum-jumping, universe-hopping and time-travelling. There was likely a duplicate of them all, which had gone back and lived that version of their lives. Rodimus tried not to think about that, he didn’t want to know about that “ending”. But this version, they found themselves in a new universe without that tether back to Cybertron.

_And Rodimus found his sparkmate in Megatron_.

He may never have even thought about something lifelong and sappy as all that in all his life. Not after entertaining the notion of him and Drift and pretty much betrayed by all that happened between them……not to mention Drift and Ratchet had been a thing for so much longer than anyone ever knew. But Megatron made Rodimus of Nyon want to find that “ _happy ending_ ”—to have sappiness and gushing. He just hoped stupid things would stop happening that seemed like they’d tear them apart. He was getting awfully tired of that. He wanted to be loved and treasured and he wanted to have someone he could trust and………..also, to love.

Megatron was already relaxing on the couch in their hab when Rodimus entered. He had a reader tablet and seemed to be very comfortable leaning back into the couch with a leg crossed over atop the other and the tablet balanced against his knee-joint.

“Hey, big guy—how ya doin’?” The flame-colored mech chuckled, grabbing a can of Energon from the storage unit in the corner and then plopped down next to his lover.

“I am doing a thousand times better now that you’re here,” the grey-colored mech chuckled, wrapping his nearest arm around Rodimus and rested a black servo against the slender hip-plating.

“You really are a silver-tongued devil, Megs,” Rodimus chuckled warmly, snuggling up against the older mech’s bulky grey frame. “It’s weird—given a million different decisions, I can’t imagine how I would up with you. All that. I guess it’s why I worry so much.”

Megatron leaned over and kissed the top of his younger lover’s helm and let his EM field wrap around Rodimus’ with love and warmth in it. In all honesty, Megatron could run a thousand scenarios and never wind up with Rodimus in any of them with him. His exasperation with the flame-colored mech’s juvenile attitude and flippant actions from the moment he came aboard the _Lost Light_ actually made him a bit relieved that he didn’t have Rodimus to deal with in the Functionist Universe.

While he regretted Terminus’ underhandedness in order to keep Megatron with him and in the Functionist Universe, he never regretted everything he did there. He missed members of the Lost Light crew, such as Rung and Ultra Magnus. He never really could admit to missing Rodimus. It wasn’t to say that he hadn’t seen Rodimus’ great potential—he’d seen that long ago and tried to get Starscream to recruit him back in Nyon—he just felt that Rodimus squandered everything he had the potential for.

Megatron hadn’t known there was a valid reason for that. Not until he got to know Rodimus on a more personal level—here, in this new universe. People were shaped by their surroundings, others and social environment. Hot Rod was a better mech in Nyon—surrounded by the dying city and the oldmechs there. He lost that innocence and began to become hardened by the Autobots—an environment being shaped by war, no one got close to each other anymore and the dermal sensor net he had and that those amongst the Autobots chose to ignore……..he could feel people’s negativity and just blocked himself away from it.

When he tried to trust, when he tried to make friends and to find his place—more often than not he was shunned or set aside, told he was in the way or given other tasks to keep him busy and not ask questions or socialize “ _above his station_ ”. And so, he started acting out—playing up an ego bigger than himself, as a shield to protect himself from a world that didn’t seem to want him. Begging for attention in a world that was always pushing him aside. Trying to find the love of new friends and mentors that he lost when he had to destroy everything in Nyon.

It was no wonder Rodimus became what he was—everything he encountered in life after Nyon went against everything he had back in Nyon, everything he woke to the world with.

“We’ll try to make things better—to make up for the lives we had tainted by the war and bad decisions,” Megatron said, softly. “I think that you and I will encounter more problems as we forge our new lives together. We just have to hold fast through them—we’ll get to our _‘happy ending’_ one day. We just have to build the foundation toward it, no matter what weather is thrown at us to prevent it.”

“I know you’re right, but…………it’s just been taken from me too many times, I don’t know if I can be strong enough to keep getting through it again and again,” Rodimus sighed, drinking from his can of Energon. “ _Meh_. I asked Drift for some interfacing tips and I don’t even feel like it now. Sorry, big guy.”

“It’s okay. I can live without fragging _every single day_ ,” Megatron laughed warmly, holding tightly onto the slender frame against him. “The important thing is that you’re here with me, our bond still exists……….and we can keep making plans for that coming tomorrow each and every day that follows.”

“ _Yeah_ ,” the flame-colored mech said, happily, snuggling and letting his field wrap itself up with Megatron’s own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, the Guiding Hand of this universe are a Combiner. *nods*


	4. The Wisdom of Justice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The crew of the Lost Light meets up with Solomus--who is leading a small police force that is trying to ensure peace remains in a small set of lawless systems.
> 
> And then something truly stupid happens..........

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! An update to this! XD
> 
> You guys are probably gonna hate me over the cliffhanger, though. *wry laugh*
> 
> This story will go on for several more chapters, "Out Beyond the Stars" will finish up soon with it's final chapter and "Torch of Victory" has it's final chapter coming in the near future as well. Then for Galvatron and Rodimus Prime, it's on to "Golden Rebirth"--the final story of that series arc, but you know I've got another series arc in the planning. ;)
> 
> More fun, adventure, romance, danger and sex throughout 2021 is coming towards y'all, get ready! XD

_ Chapter Four: The Wisdom of Justice _

Lieutenant Helios had been extremely helpful at getting a lot of information for them, as they looked for similar details from the information gathered in the various worlds of the fraternity of systems. Rodimus of Nyon was never one much for studying anything, he hadn’t been educated in a way that made him read a lot of things—so, he really didn’t like doing excessive reading. And he had been afraid he’d overlook an important detail or something. 

So, he’d requested from Ultra Magnus that he take over a bulk of the bridge command duties, while _others_ (like Magnus himself) worked on sifting through the information. The old soldier had weighed the pros and cons of the suggestions seriously and then relented to Rodimus’ request. Today, Censerre had visited him on the bridge—more out of curiosity to see how things went in the ship’s primary command station.

“I do not feel certain we can find Epistemus, to be honest,” the rust-red colored oldmech sighed, standing slightly behind the Captain’s chair.

“Yeah. If our theory’s right and it’s the same Omega Guardian we encountered—it’s going to be extremely wary of us, if it knows we’re here and looking for it,” Rodimus responded with a shake of his head. “What about _your_ flock? Have you ever thought about going back to them?” He asked, looking back at the oldmech, curiously.

“Sentinel was always a far better leader than I was, to be perfectly honest. I’m certain his skills have grown massively in my absence,” Censerre chuckled. “Perhaps we can visit them, though—I am quite certain they’d be curious about our _‘other universe cousins’_.”

Rodimus suddenly stared at Censerre with bright optics and a few other around the bridge turned to look at the oldmech as well.

“ _Sentinel_?” Rodimus asked, even though he knew full well it was likely Sentinel Prime—or this universe’s equivalent of him.

“He was such a young one when I met him—full of naivety and exuberance, but he had great charisma and instinct,” Censerre chuckled softly. “But he was good with people. He understood them.”

_Well_. That was certainly a change from their universe’s Sentinel Prime. The others on the bridge that had looked back at the rust-red colored oldmech when he said “ _Sentinel_ ”, gave soft chuckles and focused back on their workstations.

“Since they went with the Berians, do you think they’d be where the majority of the Berian refugees are?” The flame-colored mech asked curiously.

“They might, but while we felt we fit in on Berial—we may not have felt as comfortable where the refugees went,” Censerre responded. “After all, that’s why all of us wandered. We wanted to find a world and a society we could fit into and be comfortable with—and that they would be comfortable with us.”

“Makes sense,” Rodimus murmured. “They could also have separated out, too—some of your flock may have loved the Berians and stayed with them, while others looked for another place to belong.”

“That may be true as well,” the oldmech responded with a rueful smile. “I have learned about many aspects of your Cybertron from history books and the stories some on the ship have been willing to tell me. I wonder if we may have become like _that_ , over time, had our Cybertron not been destroyed?” The rust-red colored oldmech mused, folding his arms over his chest.

It _could’ve_ been possible. Or, it could’ve been _a lot worse_. Rodimus thought about all the individals, who lived in different time periods in their universe—who coexisted in this one. But, so far, many of their personalities seemed different. Otherwise Censerre— _Mortilus_ —was **_extremely trusting_** of someone like Sentinel Prime. Rather, simply “ _Sentinel_ ” as he was known here. There did not seem to be a “ _Prime_ ” lineage, but then…….they still had the guidance of the Guiding Hand. There was no need for warring tribes and unifying leadership. Nor for an overreaching Senate.

Or, what if Epistemus— _possessed by the Omega Guardian_ —had remained with his brethren and convinced them all to stay together? What if they merged into their multi-tool form, then, as well? Could the whole collective been tainted by the Omega Guardian?

Perhaps that was why whatever had remained of Epistemus tried to make sure they all separated off into their own divisions?

“I was told about what happened to you, as well—Drift told me, because he felt I should know. And it does make me understand a little bit more about why you are the way you are,” Censerre said, quietly, letting his EM field feel gentle and reassuring, as close as he was standing to the flame-colored mech. “You took on a burden beyond your years and it was normal that you felt such pain when you had to get rid of it in such a terrible way. It was _normal_ , Rodimus, but you should never have been taken advantage of because of the war—you should have been allowed to find your own path.”

“Yeah, but I never knew what **_I_** wanted back then. I was too young to really choose—I just wanted to belong somewhere and I thought that joining the Autobots would give me back something that I had lost,” Rodimus said, quietly. “I was too fragged up and emotional to make the right decisions back then.”

“ _And young_ ,” Censerre said with a light chuckle.

“That, too,” the flame-colored mech laughed softly. “But, you know—I got **_Megs_** now and I love him. And I honestly don’t give a damn what people think of me anymore, because I got **_him_**. _He’s the only one that matters_.”

“And **_that_** is the way it should be,” the oldmech said with a warm smile.

“Rodimus—long range scanners are picking up a distress signal,” Blaster said from his communications console. “Do you want to check it out or forward it to the Galactic Ranger Patrol ship in this area?” He asked, turning his chair to look over at the captain.

“Find out from the patrol ship in the area which one of us is closer and who should answer it,” Rodimus said, nodding over at the yellow-and-red mech. There was a bit of quiet on the bridge until he got a response and the patrol ship asked if they could go on ahead of them, since they had a territorial dispute they were dealing with—they asked the _Lost Light_ to deal with the issue with caution, since the planet the distress signal came from had been hostile to the Galactic Alliance and Ranger Patrol in the past. “ _Lovely_. Well, let them know we’ll do our best, Blaster.”

Then he addressed the pilots to move on ahead towards the planet. Something merely labeled “ _L-86_ ” on their Galactic Alliance charts. And Rodimus sent word to Megatron and Ultra Magnus about the change in plans. As if that were all that was needed, Ultra Magnus was on the bridge in moments, already inquiring about the situation—thankfully, Megatron stayed wherever he was doing research at.

“I don’t know, Magnus—but the Galactic Ranger Patrol warned us to be careful, since this planet’s people were hostile towards them,” Rodimus sighed, wondering if he should relent the captain’s chair to the Ship’s Second or not.

Then Ultra Magnus walked around to the various stations to get what information he could. “ _Mmm_. I see. It’s one planet out of a system that has no intention of joining the Galactic Alliance,” the old soldier murmured, as he walked back towards Rodimus. When he noticed the flame-colored mech move to get up, he held up a hand and then motioned for the younger Autobot to sit back down. “It appears they’ve had clan wars on their world for as long as they can remember—and they do not want other people telling them how to run their wars,” the red-white-blue mech said, gazing at Rodimus seriously.

“ _Got it_. But **_now_** they’re asking for help? It’s gotta be something major……..” the flame-colored mech began when suddenly the whole ship shuddered and came to a halt in space. “ _Reports!_ ” Rodimus yelled as lights went out and red warning lights and pale blue backup lights came on.

“We just got hit with a blast—hate to say this, but it looks like our old friends, the Trylians,” Bluestreak snapped, focusing intently on his piloting station and trying to answer all the messages of damage popping up on his display. “ _And they are not alone!_ There’s some other kind of ship………I don’t think they’re friendly either—with us or with the Trylians!”

“I have a feeling the Trylians messed with someone they shouldn’t have—and maybe we should find out if they can be **_OUR_** friends, if they can stand up to the Trylians,” Rodimus said quietly to Ultra Magnus, who nodded at his statement. “ _Blaster—see if you can hail the other ship!_ ” The flame-colored mech snapped, suddenly focusing on his own console’s data. Ultra Magnus stood at his shoulder and they quietly talked things out when Megatron finally came up to the bridge.

“ _That’s_ …….that’s an old Cybertronian interceptor,” Megatron said, softly, looking at the images of the Trylian warship and the other ship having at each other—and still trying to take potshots at the _Lost Light_ when they could.

Ultra Magnus looked up at the screen when he heard Megatron say it and was surprised to note the similar design structure to an old Senate interceptor. A smaller craft, designed to maneuver and harass enemies while a warship got into position.

And that was exactly what it was doing to the Trylian warship.

“ _Bluestreak—scan for a Cybertronian warship, old Senate styling!_ ” Ultra Magnus snapped. “ _Crankcase, maneuver back—we need space to scope out the situation!_ ”

“ _Aye!_ ” Crankcase responded, focusing down on his console and looking to see what maneuverability systems were still in working older.

“Captains,” Censerre began, quietly, as he stood behind Rodimus. Megatron and the flame-colored mech looked back at him while Ultra Magnus focused on a potential combat situation. “I may be mistaken, but the sigils on that interceptor look like my brother’s marks— _Solomus_.”

“Did he have such ships?” Megatron inquired curiously.

“ _Mmmm_. I don’t believe so, however, time has passed,” Censerre answered, shaking his head. “Please recall what I have said—my brother Solomus was very interested in maintaining justice. He researched on all worlds we went to and maybe even after we were separated, to see how other species claimed _‘justice’_. I believe he wanted to find a way of balance for all species and create a police force of some sort—this may be his vision in reality.”

“I wonder how the Galactic Ranger Patrol feels about that?” The bulky grey mech mumbled, turning away and walking around the stations to see what assistance he could be, asking Ultra Magnus for opinions, as well.

“Megs has a point—that is, if you understood where we came from, anyways,” Rodimus said, softly, looking at the rust-red colored oldmech. “When he wanted to conquer—Megs only desire was to have his own rule of law. However, the old Senate wasn’t that far removed from such thoughts—though they weren’t quite as overt. Chief Justice Tyrest……….” the flame-colored mech began, deciding not to reveal Tyrest had been Solomus just yet to the oldmech. “Well, he made a lot of good rules that became laws and even got accepted by the Galactic Council. _But_ ………well, he took it **_too far_**. _It got ugly_.”

Then Rodimus looked towards Ultra Magnus and gave a little sigh.

“Magnus was Tyrest’s _‘Chief Enforcer’_ of those rules—and whether he wants to tell you his story or not is up to him,” the flame-colored mech said, quietly.

“I believe I know where you are reaching towards. My brother had a mech known as _‘Magnus’_ as one of his chief successors—not quite a second-in-command, he divided that with another known as _‘Saber’_. The two mechs were very equal and both passionate about justice, as my brother was,” Censerre responded. “I know you didn’t mention him by the name I know, but I am certain I can infer who this _‘Tyrest’_ was.”

Censerre has been reading up on the history of their universe and their Cybertron—it seemed only right he’d been given datalogs of their final fights with the members of the Guiding Hand in one way or another. None of it was really kept secret—the command crew had declassified most of that information, since everyone on the ship was involved in it anyways, there was no point to keep much of it “ _secret_ ”.

“Our Magnus isn’t the same as the one you probably know, though—as I said, it’s Magnus’ story to tell,” Rodimus chuckled. “Hey, guys—anything new yet?” He called over toward the workstations, mostly towards Blaster and Bluestreak.

“I haven’t detected anything other than the interceptor and the Trylian warship,” the mech at the second piloting console responded.

“I’ve been put on hold by the Cybertronian-like vessel,” the communications officer responded with a droll laugh. “But they aren’t firing at us anymore—so, maybe that’s a good sign?” He added.

The Trylian warship was trying to take all of them on, though—however, being harried by a speedier vessel than their own and trying to take shots at their hated enemy of those on the Lost Light had their attention and interests divided.

“I’m getting reports from Nautica that they should have main power back up shortly and then we can put up shields,” Ultra Magnus responded, still walking back-and-forth between stations.

“Now we’re just playing a waiting game,” Rodimus sighed, leaning back in the captain’s chair and then he smiled over at Megatron as the bulky grey mech looked back at him.

* * * * *

The stalemate broke when the Trylians finally decided to give up and leave. They powered up their engines and warped out of the system. The interceptor finally allowed communications with the Lost Light and the image of their commander appeared on the screen.

“This is Commander Saber of the Light Order,” the mech on the screen said, sharply.

Yeah, it was Star Saber—the one they all recognized.

“Commander Saber, I’m Rodimus—co-captain of the _Lost Light_ ,” the flame-colored mech said, motioning for Ultra Magnus to keep out of sight of the visual communications, along with a glyph. “We have someone with us that you might know……?” He added, making a gesture towards Censerre to bring himself into the visual range of the cameras for the communications.

“ _Master Mortilus!_ It has been such a long time and we heard such terrible tales of your possible demise!” Star Saber said, genuine concern in his voice as he saw the rust-red colored oldmech. “Thank Primus, you look okay!”

“I am fine—I’ve found these other Cybertronians, or rather **_they_** found **_me_** ,” Censerre responded, giving the red-blue-white mech on the screen a fond smile, even as he absently brushed the scarring on his faceplate. “They have been wonderful and their stories are utterly fascinating. Is there any chance that we may meet with my brother, Solomus?” He asked, still keeping his smile warm and open.

“I’ll pass along word that you’d like to see him. However, we’ve been very busy chasing these scoundrels across the system. They really don’t like us for some reason,” the mech said with a droll laugh, relaxing back into his seat on his ship’s bridge.

Rodimus gave a polite little cough to clear his vocalizer. “That’s a story, too—and we’re involved, plus there’s more to it,” the flame-colored mech answered with a wry smile. “We’ll be happy to share what information we have on them, if you can share some information about the area with us?” He asked, softly.

“That would be beneficial. I’ve been in contact with our base on Jerul and we’ll go there,” Star Saber responded. “Follow us.”

The _Lost Light_ followed the small interceptor to a reddish-blue planet—which was not a Galactic Alliance planet, but had native inhabitants on it, in addition to the Cybertronians. Most of the crew was directed to stay aboard the ship, while a small portion would be the “ _ambassadorial unit_ ” to visit with this “ _Light Order_ ” using a transport down to the planet itself while the Lost Light stayed in orbit.

Rodimus had urged Ultra Magnus to remain aboard, because they weren’t sure if they were going to run into this universe’s Ultra Magnus here on Jerul. So, Rodimus went and he chose Drift to go with him, plus Cyclonus……and also asked Nickel to come along, for her wide range of experience with foreign species (and to have a doctor in case something stupid happened). Then he chose Hot Spot, Bluestreak and Thunderclash to come along with the “ _ambassadorial unit_ ”. He kept a good balance of talkers and fighters with him—just in case stupidity happened. And, of course, Censerre came along—as he was the one who specifically asked to see his brother, Solomus.

The natives of Jerul were an interesting……… _species_. They seemed to be made of minerals and depending on the composite of their mineral forms, they could look different or take different shapes at whim. Some chose bi-pedal forms—likely to interact with the primarily bi-pedal species throughout the universe—and some chose quadrupedal forms. Then some floated and some created forms with more limbs than should be anywhere near necessary for existence. In a way, many of them were like Transformers—they could alter their shapes at will.

“Master Solomus informed us that he’d like to come visit with you—Magnus will bring him to Jerul in two hours,” Star Saber said, dipping his shoulders politely. “The base area is open to you—however, you may find locked doors, please don’t spurn our hospitality by breaking through them,” he added with a light chuckle and probably a grin beneath his warrior’s facial shield. “The Jerulians are a great species—please treat them with respect as well, they allowed us to share their home on this world and their interests align with ours.”

Rodimus nodded and smiled at Star Saber—though, personally, he had to have a nagging suspicion on what those “ _interests_ ” may be. It may be that he was overly worried, based on everything they had experienced with Tyrest in their own universe. But Rodimus’ near-paranoid caution was something that kept him alive for a very long time. He wasn’t set to compromise that at all and risk getting hurt over making a mistake of being “ _too trusting_ ”. Far better to run first and ask questions later—rather than stand around and possibly die.

After the tall red-blue-white mech left them, the Cybertronians split up to explore out of curiosity. Drift and Rodimus went off together and decided to go ahead and explore outside the base. The two good friends transformed into their alt modes and went driving around the strangely paved areas—not “ _roads_ ” per se, but it looked to serve multiple-purposes. From road to landing strip. Given how strange the mineral-like Jerulians could alter their shapes, it may even be some sort of raceway or battle area.

The sky was an odd orange-pink, even though the sun was high in the sky. That meant the mineral composition of the atmosphere diffused the colors of the sun’s light differently on the world.

“The water— _if you can call it that_ —is **_actually_** purple,” Rodimus commented as they drove by some sort of water source that was probably a very large lake.

“Long-range scans of it show a different chemical makeup over the traditional H-two-oh,” Drift chuckled. “What do you make of this, Rodimus?” The swordsmech asked, curiously.

“I want to seriously think we’re not in any danger here, but too much stupidity has happened lately and I’m gonna stay super-cautious,” the flame-colored mech responded. “Given all of our experiences, it’s a bit harder for me to break the mentality of what we experienced in our universe of all the _‘similar people’_ we’ve begun to see.”

“If it means anything, Saber— _our Star Saber_ —was once a very different mech when he was with the Circle of Light,” Drift said, softly, remembering what Wing told him of the history of the hidden New Crystal City. “A love of anything can twist someone up inside—love of an individual, love of an ideal, love of a religion. Saber took it too far and lost a good portion of his rationality with it.”

Even Drift had been like that, once—as Deadlock—his love of fighting and killing consumed so much of him. With the aid of Wing and the serenity of the mechs in the Circle of Light—he made a slow crawl back towards being a “ _normal mech_ ”. He still had some ways to go, but Drift was no longer bound by his desires as Deadlock. **_Mostly_** —almost entirely, probably.

“I wonder how weird it’ll be when we meet this universe’s Ultra Magnus—I mean, he’s gotta be like……. _the original mech_ , right? Not just the ones in armour that Tyrest hired?” Rodimus mused, his exterior sensors taking in the views of the strange world of Jerul.

“ _Probably_. The one that began the legend, you could say—if so, it’ll probably be weirder if our Magnus meets this one,” the swordsmech chuckled softly.

**|Rodimus—how are things?|**

Inwardly, the flame-colored mech grinned to get a message from Megatron—even if it was a standard check-in message. Drift felt the perk-up in Rodimus’ EM field and smiled to himself. As much a **_not-fan_** as he was of his friend’s relationship with his former commander, Megatron made him so happy—and Drift could appreciate that, since he realized he’d never seen Rodimus truly happy until now. Drift realized that he had never really made enough of a friendship durable enough with Rodimus to make him truly happy.

**|It’s fine so far, big guy—we’re waiting on the star of the show to arrive, so they’re letting us look around. Drift and I are driving around outside the base. The colors here are interesting and bright.|**

**|The chemicals and compounds prevalent on the planet are interesting. It would explain the colors. From up here, the planet looks orange and violet. Not like most worlds we’d been around.|**

**|The lake or whatever near the base IS purple. The sky is orange and pink. The natives look like they’re made of rock or crystal or something—they can change shape at will.|**

**|It sounds like it would be interesting to explore. If anything happens, just message me right away—Magnus and I will be ready for anything.|**

**|Thanks, big guy. For now we’ll be fine.|**

Drift gave Rodimus a few moments before speaking to him—getting the sense of a glyph-message string between the sparkmates.

“Did Megatron say anything?” The swordsmech asked, curiously.

“ _Nah_. Fluff and to be careful, of course,” the flame-colored mech laughed. “He really **_is_** great and he really does want to be better. _I just wish_ ……….stupid things would stop happening between us—it’s exhausting.”

“It’s the story of life,” Drift said with a little sigh.

**|Rodimus—Solomus’ ship is about to arrive, you may want to get back here.|**

The flame-colored mech read Thunderclash’s message and sent a brief glyph saying that they were on their way back. It didn’t take long for the two cars—both very fast in the racing style their designs were made for—to get back to the base. As soon as they returned, Cyclonus met them and led them to the conference room that was apparently chosen for them.

The mood in the room was vibrant and happy—Solomus looked very much like the mech Rodimus had known as Tyrest, minus a billion holes bored in his frame and the gaudy cape. He was standing with Censerre and they had their servos clasped on one another’s shoulders and they looked very happy to see each other once again. It was like family and reminded Rodimus of his days back in Nyon as a newmech—he got the same sense of warmth, love and camaraderie from the two oldmechs as he felt back when he was a far younger mech and new to the world.

“ _Ah_ —you would be Captain Rodimus,” the one who looked like Tyrest, but was Solomus, said, walking over to the flame-colored mech and reaching out to clasp his servo warmly. “My brother Mortilus spoke of you quite highly. He says you gave him a new name to use—to start a new stage of life.”

“Oh, _uh_ , yeah—I guess I did,” Rodimus chuckled, a little overwhelmed by Solomus’ presence. He did, kinda—he referred to Mortilus as “ _Censerre_ ” when they’d been back with Gai on Berial. Mortilus had liked the name and asked if he could have it. “It’s nice to meet you—Censerre talks a lot about you guys, his family. I think there’s a lot we can learn from each other.”

“There probably is. For now, we have issues—it is not just these cyborgs calling themselves _‘Trylians’_. We have a large band of space pirates causing issues amongst the worlds we’ve sworn to protect,” Solomus said with a deep sigh as he walked away from Rodimus and motioned for everyone to take seats at the large table. The gold-colored oldmech made a motion to someone at the back of the room and the lights dimmed and a slideshow started on the wall behind him. “They are a group formed of many outlaws from many different worlds. We’ve been trying to pinpoint their base, but we don’t know if it’s a planet or planetoid—and we certainly have no idea where it is, whatever it may be.”

“I recognize a few of those species from the Galactic Alliance’s datapackets,” Rodimus murmured to Drift.

“Given that they’re outlaws—I’m sure many of them come from Galactic Alliance worlds,” Drift whispered back. “ _Master Solomus!_ ” The swordsmech said, raising a servo to get the wise oldmech’s attention. “In my younger days, I had dealings with beings like this. If these pirates are like any I interacted with—have you looked for runners?” Drift inquired as soon as Solomus gave him permission to talk.

“ _Runners_?” Solomus inquired, tilting his head curiously.

“ _Hmmm_. Pirate groups call them that, but basically they’re independent scouts—never work in groups larger than two,” Drift answered. “If you can tag a runner—you might be able to get more useful information based on where they go and who they talk to.”

“How would you recognize a runner?” Star Saber asked, turning in his chair to look over at Drift.

“Well, they’d be someone well-travelled—knowledgeable about locations and planets,” the swordsmech answered. “But also the fact that they’re always travelling should be your initial alert about a potential runner.”

“That explains something very important we’ve noticed, Master,” a deep voice said from the back of the room where the projector was. 

Everyone looked back at the person who spoke. To those of the _Lost Light_ —the person was very familiar with the bulky red-white-blue armour. It looked different than the mech they knew now, but to historical records—this was the **_original_** Ultra Magnus.

“You’ve found some of these runners, Commander Magnus?” Solomus asked, making a motion to bring the lights back up in the room.

“Perhaps,” the tall mech answered, shaking his head. “We noticed a number of small ships doing a lot of roundabouts in the areas where we have noticed pirate activity,” Ultra Magnus continued. “The activity was something we couldn’t explain, but if this is what they were—then it explains a lot.”

“It seems we could really use more of your knowledge and expertise that you’ve gained in your travels,” Solomus said, looking over at Drift and Rodimus. “If your crew would like to bring their ship down and enjoy some downtime here on Jerul—you’re welcome to do so.”

“It would be nice, but maybe first we need to explain a few things,” Rodimus said with a light chuckle. He realized that before his crew began to interact, maybe Solomus’ people needed to understand that there were probably “ _duplicate people_ ” on their ship with some of the ones here—especially Ultra Magnus. “You see, it’s like this………”

* * * * *

When the crew of the _Lost Light_ disembarked for some shore leave and began to interact with the Jerulians and Solomus’ group of refugee Cybertronians, this **_Light Order_** , there was curiosity and a bit of excitement. And, actually, the two different Ultra Magnuses began to bond really quickly—finding a lot in common, but just enough differences to spark a lot of interesting conversation topics.

“Looks like you got to come down and see the funny colors on this planet anyways,” Rodimus laughed warmly as he and Megatron walked servo-in-servo along the paved way that could’ve been some kind of road or landing strip or whatever. “See, that lake really **_IS_** purple!” The flame-colored mech said, motioning with his free servo at the body of water near the road-thing.

“It is refreshing to see something new and different,” Megatron replied, gazing around at the interesting makeup of the planet and its colorful nature. “Though, you don’t stand out as much on a brightly colored world like this……..” he trailed off.

“ _Heh_ , it’s kinda nice to blend in,” Rodimus laughed, snuggling close and holding tightly to Megatron’s arm. “So, what do you think we should do? While we’re here and we help out with their pirate situation?” The flame-colored mech asked.

“Ask questions. And let’s get some information about Epistemus from Solomus if we can,” the bulky grey mech responded. “If we can get the different opinions of Epistemus from his other brothers, we may be able to find a good psychological profile—and then be able to pick out what is the Omega Guardian and what is Epistemus himself.”

“Yeah, we need a lot of advantage against an Omega Guardian,” Rodimus said with a soft sigh. “While better and smarter people talk about _those things_ —let’s go on a nice relaxing walk together, Megs, and talk about **_you and me_**.”

“I am most certainly up for that. And maybe a little more, later,” the bulky grey mech laughed warmly.

“ _You pervy oldmech_ ,” Rodimus laughed, hugging onto Megatron’s arm very tightly. “Megatron—we **_are_** gonna make it, aren’t we? _It’s just_ …………” the flame-colored mech trailed off.

Megatron let his EM field reach out and wrap around his younger lover.

“ _Tell me_. When you were focused on your revenge—what end did you see?” The bulky grey mech asked, with a tone of seriousness in his voice.

Rodimus didn’t like to think about **_that_**. Because he didn’t see any future for him after beating the hell out of Getaway. He already knew he’d never have anything with Drift, because he’d seen the swordsmech kissing Ratchet in Censerre’s citadel. And **_that_** was the end of anything else he ever wanted, all he had left to himself was wanting revenge on Getaway—for stealing the _Lost Light_ , for killing members of the crew for……….just being an afthole in general. He didn’t have anything with Megatron back then—he was only angry at the betrayal, that Megatron had left them in the Functionist Universe. It was just one more thing in his life he was angry at—and all of his anger was the only thing he had left.

“I hated everything, Megs— _everything and everyone_. It was the last time I really hoped everything would end,” the flame-colored mech whispered, softly. He felt a twinge and ache in his chest— _in his Spark_. “I’ve never told anyone this—not even Ratchet who grilled me on medical issues after they pulled the Matrix out of my frame, but for the first time I felt like I had purpose when the Matrix was merged with me and after that, when they took it out………I was just that orphan of Nyon again. _The mech nobody ever wanted_. I’ve been lost and searching ever since then.”

**_That_** was what Megatron saw.

_When they Spark-bonded._

_**He saw that unmeasurable brilliance.**_

The Rodimus that carried the Matrix—merged with it in a way that no other who’d ever called himself a “ _Prime_ ” had ever bonded with the ancient object before.

“But then I found **_you_**. I dunno, when you came back from the Functionist Universe—I wasn’t really as mad as I might’ve sounded,” the younger mech continued. “I was glad because, you know, _you came back_. You were Magnus’ friend—and I didn’t want to think you’d really betray **_him_** , you know? Me, _sure_ —you’d throw me under the bus at your first chance, _but not Magnus_. You didn’t see him after we got back to Censerre’s world.”

“You really like Ultra Magnus, don’t you?” Megatron asked, as they stopped at a scenic view area, surrounded by an outcropping of towering rocks and nicely paved road-something-or-another.

“ _Yeah._ He’s a really good guy. I’ve always admired him—and honestly, if he ever made a move on me, I’d go straight for it in a flash,” Rodimus chuckled softly. “That was why it hurt that he did what he did with Tyrest—that he set out to kinda punish me.”

Megatron frowned.

“You know, Drift and I had fun with him—we pushed each other to see which one of us could make Magnus smile or laugh and it was just a lot of fun. Magnus took things too seriously and I guess he never realized that I was leading an escape from the potential oppression that was gonna be on Cybertron— _I wanted everyone to be happy and have fun **and to live**_ ,” Rodimus said with a sigh, pulling his servo out of his lover’s and turning to face him.

Rodimus’ back was to the purple lake and the deepening pink hues of a “ _setting sun_ ” kind of sky.

“What’s so wrong about trying to be happy and free? Why can’t people just relax and enjoy life?” The flame-colored mech complained. “It’s so……… _so unbearable_ to be alone. I’ve tried and it hurts and it always, always just reminds me of everything I lost in Nyon. I don’t want people to do that—I don’t want them to destroy their own Sparks and programs being alone, _it’s just not fair_!”

Megatron began to feel a bit worried as Rodimus started crying, right then and there. The younger mech kept trying to hold everything back—no matter how many times Megatron told him it was alright to cry. Everything that had come between them lately stressed Rodimus’ view of happiness and the future even more, it made the grey-colored mech’s Spark ache to feel his mate’s deeply ingrained pain. He reached out one of his large black servos and cupped the side of Rodimus’ faceplate and was happy when the flame-colored mech leaned into it with relief.

“We’re going to make it, Rodimus,” Megatron said, softly, moving close so Rodimus could lean against his chest. “ _I promise you, **we will**._ There will be ups and downs and plenty of stresses, but we are Spark-bonded and mates for life. I will never, willingly, betray you.”

“I………I **_do_** know that, really I do. It’s just……….I’m so tired of all of this around me. All this stupidity,” Rodimus sighed, reaching his arms around Megatron and digging his digits into his older lover’s tank treads. “ _I want a romantic, fairy tale ending_. That’s all,” he chuckled softly, rubbing his nasal ridge against the Autobot brand on Megatron’s chestplating.

Megatron felt the longing and warmth in Rodimus’ Spark and frame and began to slide his servos down his younger lover’s sides and aft, maneuvering them both behind the large outcropping of rocks. The flame-colored mech purred and began to surrender to desire and sexual interest. Pushing Rodimus lightly against the rocks, Megatron let his digits caress and his servos grasp, even as the younger mech opened for him and whispered a desperate plea for lovemaking right here and right now.

He couldn’t promise an absolute guarantee for a fairy tale ending, but the former Decepticon Leader would do his damnedest to make sure that they got there **_eventually_**.

* * * * *

“So, _this_ is what we’ve been examining,” Ultra Magnus said—the Ultra Magnus that belonged to Solomus’ band and not the one on the _Lost Light_. His voice wasn’t as deep as Minimus Ambus’ voice through the armour, but it had a kind tone to it—very brotherly. “Our thanks to Drift of the _Lost Light_ for explaining some pirate terms and ideas—it has helped us consolidate more reports on activity we weren’t quite sure of.”

The makeup of the room were a handful of Solomus’ band from the Light Order and a handful of the _Lost Light_ command crew. Solomus’ staff included Ultra Magnus and himself, as well as Star Saber, a femme with the designation of Strongarm and a mech named Punch. Then, from the _Lost Light_ there was Rodimus, Ultra Magnus, Megatron, Drift and Roller.

“I do have one question of you, Master Solomus—why are you pursuing this course of independent policing?” Megatron asked, waving a servo briefly to get the oldmech’s attention.

The tall gold-colored mech gave a light chuckle and waved a servo with brief dismissal. “Yes, I think I see what you’re getting at,” he responded. “To be honest, there are times when I and many others feel that the Galactic Alliance and their Ranger Patrol can be a bit too far on the political side of the spectrum,” he began, folding his servos together and gazing directly at Megatron. “It isn’t their fault—and the Galactic Alliance is, overall, _a good thing_ —however, they are often constrained by their rules. Sometimes to achieve true justice, one must circumvent rules here and there,” Solomus added, giving a light smile.

Megatron nodded. He didn’t like what it implied, but he understood where Solomus was coming from on that. Taking one’s own view of justice too far could………make things wind up just like what happened with Tyrest. So, Megatron hoped that Solomus would not become the same as their universe’s version—obsessed with his own vision of purity and justice. He hoped that this universe’s Solomus truly had the wisdom needed to temper his vision of justice.

“Everyone’s Sparks—or _‘hearts’_ as the organics call them—can become clouded as they try to follow rules, as they absorb new knowledge and new factors in their lives. They can become lost on their paths,” Solomus said, serenely. “For those at their worst and can cause tremendous danger—I can cleave their cloudiness away and leave them refreshed in their own views. But I cannot do that to every single being in the universe—therefore, we must simplify some of the rights that all beings have. Fewer rules do not necessarily mean lawlessness, it means there must be inherent rules for the common good.”

“ _Don’t kill people_ ,” Rodimus said, simply and as a matter of fact.

“ _Yes_. Assist the weak and helpless is another good one—these are things all should adhere to and there shouldn’t be written laws defining such things,” the gold-colored oldmech chuckled warmly. When you have too many laws— _too many words for all to read_ —it becomes stressful and confining. And sometimes people don’t break those rules simply to rebel, sometimes they simply become tired of reading the words of those laws.”

Ultra Magnus, the one from the _Lost Light_ , frowned. Because **_he_** loved rules and the words of the laws he had always adhered to and enforced for many centuries. He loved the intricacies of words in the writ of the laws he’d always followed. Solomus tilted his head curiously at the red-white-blue mech who looked very much like his own close confidant.

“It is not that I agree or disagree, but I do enjoy my words and laws,” the old soldier responded, shaking his head lightly.

“Understandable, but when laws are created—they should be in the common tongue and the simplest words, so all can understand,” Solomus chided. “Those who cannot read, the words must be simple enough for them to understand when another reads the laws to them.”

This Solomus was most definitely different than Tyrest from their own universe—who was the one who created all those excessively wordy laws that Minimus Ambus/Ultra Magnus loved so much. This Solomus was more of the mind of a champion than a lawmaker—he wanted to follow the Spark of the law, not the glyph of it.

At this point, the few members of the Guiding Hand that they had met………were turning out to be very different than the ones they knew and called “ _gods_ ” in their own universe. Mortilus had turned out to be a father-figure, who loved his flock and the Berians so much he was willing to do anything to protect them all……….whereas the Censerre of their universe was an isolated loner, choosing to oversee the deaths of Cybertronians (and, until Nightbeat had chided him, do nothing to save those Cybertronians). Solomus here was a champion of justice—he wanted to make sure everyone was free and happy, and he’d stick to the law as much as he could to preserve it, but he was willing to skirt the laws to ensure people were kept safe and enjoyed the true freedoms they should have in the name of wisdom and justice. 

But Tyrest had been letter-to-the-law enforcer of justice, not just in deference to Cybertronians, but the universe at large, too. His books of laws had even become accepted by the Galactic Council and other governments throughout their universe. And the law was the law—Tyrest had enforcers like Ultra Magnus to oversee that those laws were followed wherever he could not be. So much to the point that he had become obsessed with his own views of the laws and justice—doing damage to himself and feeling only he could right the wrongs in the universe, even if he had to kill billions to do it.

_Which he did_.

And attempted to kill billions more, if it hadn’t been for the crew of the _Lost Light_ —Tailgate to stop things and Rodimus to set things right with whatever remained of the Matrix.

“We are looking at heading off some sort of event the pirates are planning. We aren’t sure what it is, but we’re suspecting some sort of heist,” Solomus began, rising back to his pedes and making a motion to his Ultra Magnus at the back of the room to turn on the projector. Then he pointed to a world on the displayed map of the nearby systems. “The _‘runners’_ , as Drift provided us the proper term with, have been noted going back and forth to this planet here—a system over from us—called **_Meb_**. Meb, like most of us in these few systems locally, is not a member of the Galactic Alliance—they are a highly scientific world with a lot of inventions that could be used quite inappropriately by those with a will to do so.”

“Have they asked for your help?” The Ultra Magnus of the Lost Light asked, making some notes on a datapad in his servos.

“ _No._ Not specifically, but we have warned them that they’ve been scouted by the pirates harassing this sector,” Solomus answered. “At the risk of making our new _‘cousins’_ dislike me—I did earlier state that our interests are in preserving life and we’ll bend the rules to do that. Regardless of what the Mebians think, we are going to try and make sure the pirates don’t plunder their world. It’s in the best interest of all life in the universe, because we don’t want pirates taking anything from Meb that could be used as a doomsday weapon.”

“ _Understandable_ ,” Megatron murmured. “I should warn you to be careful at what lines you choose to cross. I’ve crossed many in my lifetime and I have a lifetime of regrets over that,” the grey-colored mech added, nodding his head and then giving a glance over at Rodimus, who was looking at the map projected on the wall, puzzled. “Problems?” He asked softly, nudging his sparkmate with his elbow.

“I……I think I know these systems. I’m not sure I know how I know these systems, but……. _they look really familiar_ ,” the flame-colored mech whispered back. “ ** _Um_**. This is gonna sound weird and silly, Megs—but I _gotta_ go with Solomus’ crew on this mission. I just know I need to go along.”

“Then, I’ll go along with Rodimus,” Drift said, looking over at the two captains. “I do have the most experience with space pirates, so hopefully I can also be of assistance to Solomus’ people of what to look for and who to suspect,” he added, looking over at Solomus and nodding as well.

“We’d be glad to have you along, Drift. Star Saber will be in command of this scouting mission—try not to engage unless necessary,” Solomus responded. “We would like to get information if we can, especially if it may eventually lead us to their homebase.”

Acquiescence echoed through the room and then more plans were made between Solomus’ cabinet and those of the _Lost Light_. After a couple hours and some preparation, Drift and Rodimus were on Star Saber’s small assault cruiser—which was designed to hold about 20 average sized mechs and femmes.

Rodimus noted the few he recognized from historical documents on their Cybertron and a couple he knew from the more “ _modern_ ” era. Drift said he knew a lot of the people here—from their versions in their universe. Which made sense, as old as Drift was and all the historical periods he’d been involved in as both an Autobot and a Decepticon.

“Out of curiosity, to know your battle potential—what are your specialties?” Star Saber asked the two from the _Lost Light_ , as he briefed them on what they were primarily going to do and what to expect in the worst of circumstances in the ship’s small loading area.

“I did some scouting back in my day, you wouldn’t think it with my colors, but I was pretty good at hiding when I wanted to—and I’m really good at observation,” Rodimus answered, giving a light shrug of his shoulders. “I’m best at sniping, though I can do closer range combat with a gun, too. And I can do some hand-to-hand junk………Drift and I spar a lot.”

“I use swords mostly now,” Drift began, pointing to the ones at his hip-plating and a digit-flick at the greatsword at his back. “But I could probably still use guns. Used to wield two heavy arms a long time ago. But I’d say I’m better at close combat than ranged combat anymore. Was always good at fighting, sometimes a bit too much,” he added with a light sigh and shake of his head.

“ _Excellent_. We could certainly use some close combat fighters, to be honest,” the very large red-blue-white mech chuckled warmly. “Magnus tries to train them, but mostly they tune him out and focus on weapons combat. No one wants to get their servos dirty, I suppose,” he added with a shrug and tilt of his head.

“It’s easier to swallow when you’re far away from an opponent and hitting them— _hurting them_ ,” the flame-colored mech sighed, shaking his head, sadly. “Trust me. I know that **_personally_**. When you can see their expressions and the glow in their optics—it’s a different burden to bear.”

Star Saber nodded and made an affirmative hum. “Is it strange seeing people you know in different roles here? Master Mortilus is very excited about your existence, coming from another universe,” the large mech asked, motioning for them to follow him to some small habs to get some rest before the mission.

“A bit. But in a way it’s kind of a relief……….some of the people back in our universe were real afts,” Rodimus responded, trying to avoid saying any specific names. Like Star Saber’s or Solomus/Tyrest’s.

“He does like the name you gave him, too—he says it doesn’t sound as negative as his birth name. _Censerre_ has a very pleasant ring to it—though it contains the glyph for censure, which is weird,” Star Saber laughed. “I think the only one who would be more excited about you all really would’ve been Master Epistemus—Master Mortilus was the most supportive of Master Epistemus’ wild theories and everything, even if he didn’t understand them very much at all.”

“Do you know much about the others…….. _Censerre’s siblings_?” Rodimus asked, very curious about it.

“I never met Master Primus—Magnus has, though. But I’ve met all of the others except for him. Master Epistemus loved his big and complex words. Master Adaptus was so funny—his view of things is _so gloriously skewed_ , because he believes everything can adapt to anything. Master Solomus believes in order and justice, while Master Mortilus was often avoided because of his Spark-ability, but he’s actually the kindest of them all,” Star Saber said with such great warmth in his voice. “Master Primus spent most of his time going around and seeing that everything was in working order—he never stayed in one place and only his closest acolytes followed him everywhere. I think that’s why I don’t know him very well, but Magnus regards him quite highly.”

Rodimus kept mental notes on Star Saber’s observations of those who were known as “ _The Guiding Hand_ ” in their own universe. It sounded weird to hear that Primus was distant—given they all learned he was Rung from their universe. And Rung enjoyed being with people. But, for the most part, it seemed all the members of the Guiding Hand here in **_THIS_** universe were quite different than the ones they all knew. Probably the most important thing was that they were **_NOT_** regarded as “ _gods_ ” in this universe—they were the _First Cybertronians_ and given special abilities by the creator-Primus, who became the world of Cybertron for his children. Those Spark-abilities were the only things that made them different than the “ _normal_ ” Cybertronians that they led.

It was also different at how they were often referred to as “ _Master_ ”—Drift said to Rodimus that it was almost akin to a teacher-student version of address. And he may not have been far wrong to assume that, it seemed. This universe’s Ultra Magnus—whom Rodimus hadn’t yet spoken to himself—seemed to think very highly of Primus, so he was likely just as interesting a mech as the others of this universe’s “ _Guiding Hand_ ” were.

“So, did Ultra Magnus maybe travel with your Master Primus for a time?” Drift asked, knowing it was a question Rodimus probably wanted to ask, as well.

“You guess right,” Star Saber laughed warmly. “Yeah, Magnus was one of Master Primus’ acolytes. There was an……. ** _event_**. Right before the Masters all chose to go separate ways. A child was…….. ** _lost_**. And Magnus blames himself, even to this day. Rather than remain with Master Primus’ group, he chose to join with Master Solomus instead—to try and make up for the loss of that child.”

Rodimus noted the way Star Saber very carefully spoke about this life-altering event. A “ _child_ ” was an interesting definition—could it have meant an actual **_sparkling_**? Or a child of a species from another planet—since the Cybertronians had left Cybertron all in a single group before they split up? It had to be a tragic event, clearly, to have rattled this universe’s Ultra Magnus so much that he could not console himself after centuries.

“It’s time we all get some rest, I’m sure we’ll have more time to exchange stories later on,” the tall warrior mech chuckled warmly, opening the door to the 2-person hab suite for them and motioning for them to enter and relax.

* * * * *

When they arrived on Meb, Star Saber spoke with the committee that greeted their ship while the others all milled around the welcome area, observing the style of the building and the unique looks of the people. They were oddly very tall for an organic species, with a set of two distinct arms and two distinct legs, but there was a set of limbs around the middle area of their torso which looked as if they could function as hands or as something assisting a foot, such as a cane—those limbs were very long and had two elbow-joints, it appeared. Their skin was an odd lavender-magenta and they had very long faces with very long, pointed ears. Their hair seemed to come in every color imaginable, though from the group in the welcome center, it appeared a favorite color was very dark indigo.

“As we told your commander, we aren’t interested in protection from whatever threats you may be imagining,” the diplomat said to Star Saber, with a strange echo in his voice. The tone of the voice sounded male, matching the shape of the body in general for what usually passed as male in most organic species.

“We understand. But these pirates have been harassing the local systems at large, we just would like to do some research and observation,” the force commander responded, his voice very firm. “Any assistance your people are willing to grant us would also be very welcome.”

“Very well, but you are all limited to the blue and grey areas of the city—they are shown marked on these city maps,” the diplomat sighed, motioning to his assistants to hand out these palm-size discs. “Touch the disc and a holographic map appears for up to five minutes at any one given time. The areas of blue and grey are marked on your maps, if your GPS location goes off from those areas, you will be confronted by security—so we warn you to stay to the areas we have requested you stay at. Tap it a second time to turn it off.”

Rodimus and Drift took their discs and the both of them tapped the disc to activate it. The two best friends observed their maps and noted how they looked the same, but then different at different angles—definitely relying on a GPS location and viewpoint style of system. The location name markers were, thankfully, in Galactic Standard.

“Star Saber………Drift and I are going to go look at this small branch library located on the northern area. Sometimes small libraries have more specialized information than the larger ones,” the flame-colored mech said, looking over at the red-blue-white soldier.

“That sounds like a plan, keep me updated if there’s anything you think I should know,” Star Saber responded with a nod towards them, though his optics were still focused on the diplomat in front of him.

The two Autobots walked out of one of the exits and observed everything as they made their way to the north side of the city area.

“You have anything?” Drift asked, curious as to why Rodimus had made a definite decision on where to go.

“ _Not sure_. Kinda like I said to Megs, about I gotta go and stuff—I just feel like this is what I need to do here,” the flame-colored mech responded, shaking his head and sighing. “You know, I haven’t felt this in tune with my instincts in a very long time……..not sure why, but Megs definitely makes me want to be better than I ever have been before.”

Drift chuckled as they walked closely side-by-side down the walkways of the strange spiral-towered city. He appreciated the flame-colored mech’s sudden drive to live. While Rodimus never whined about his death wish specifically to the swordsmech, Drift kinda knew it. He wondered how different Rodimus would be if what happened to Nyon had never happened to Nyon—would he be grander? Bolder? Stronger and better with the strange ability he seemed to have? It definitely would’ve been a different Rodimus—though, probably still known as **_Hot Rod_**. The death of Nyon from the centuries after made Rodimus hate his birth name.

“What are we going to look for—or pretend to look for?” Drift asked, quietly.

“Something _‘not right’_. Yeah, I know, we’ve never been to this planet before—but they’re primarily scientists here, like Percy,” the flame-colored mech chuckled, fully saying the nickname he knew Perceptor absolutely hated. “So, we wanna watch for something _‘not like Percy’_ , something or someone that stands out as not seeming to fit with what we’re seeing here.”

The two of them eventually reached the small library and Rodimus recognized a person in the building, sitting at a large research table—actually, he was sitting **_on_** the research table with a massive book open in front of him.

“Gai, what are _you_ doing here?” Rodimus asked, walking over to the human-looking male.

“ _Rodimus-kun_. Hikari-san sent me here to look something up and to intercept you,” the Japanese-looking alien stated, getting to his feet and stretching. “We managed to deal with Finality in one of our universes, but what you said about it being an alien you’d previously encountered made some of our kind want to do a little research. Hikari-san would’ve come here himself, as this is a world he would’ve loved to visit, however certain circumstances are preventing him from doing so.”

“I’m glad you were able to deal with an Omega Guardian—it wasn’t very easy for us to deal with them,” Rodimus said, sitting at the table and motioning for Drift to do so, too. “Drift, this is Kurenai Gai— _Ultraman Orb_ —the alien we met on Berial.”

“Nice to meet you,” the swordsmech responded. “You really **_do_** look Japanese. I spent some time there when I was on Earth.”

Gai chuckled softly. “It does enable me to fit in when I have to go there—and I am fond of that planet,” the male answered with a polite dip of his head and shoulders at Drift. “Zero-san was going to come and intercept you, but he might be a bit much for you to deal with—I said to Seven-san that a more friendly face might be welcome,” the human-looking man said with a warm laugh. “Zero-san was the one who managed to take out Finality, however—something happened when he did,” Gai murmured.

“The Omega Guardian jumped into a new host,” Rodimus said, shaking his head and folding his arms crossly.

“ _Yes_. Unfortunately, we couldn’t tell into what or…….. _whom_ ,” Gai answered. “Even _that man_ couldn’t figure it out—and he’s always been more perceptive than I,” he added, thinking of his rival-friend, Jugglus Juggler, but not mentioning him by name. “Is there a way **_you_** can tell?”

“Considering none of us even knew Epistemus was the Magnificence, much less that an Omega Guardian had inhabited him—nope, I don’t think we can tell. Just wait until someone or something starts something mass destructive,” Rodimus answered with a deep sigh. “They seem to like to _‘eat things’_ —life and structures.”

“ _Hmmmm_. That could help, I’ll make a note of it,” the man said, bowing his head and closing his eyes. He reached out telepathically to the nearest Ultra he could find—which was Dyna, understandable as Dyna/Shin Asuka was more accustomed to speaking over distances telepathically. _‘Dyna-san—would you let the others know the strange beast labelled an “ **Omega Guardian** ” may be able to be found consuming things? Especially energy and life forces, but even physical objects that may house these things. Trees, rocks and the like.’_

_‘I’ll pass it along. Call if you need assistance, Orb—I’m currently on patrol, Zero is rallying the troops,’_ Ultraman Dyna’s familiar voice as “ _Shin Asuka_ ” responded inside his head.

_‘I shall,’_ Gai replied back. “I passed along the information to Dyna-san—he’ll make sure the others get the information. Seven-san asked me to warn you, that there appeared to be a kind of tear in the universe—it was made by Finality in the battle with Zero-san and the others.”

“If some sort of breach was made in the fabric of reality, it might be likely another Omega Guardian came through,” Drift murmured, looking at Rodimus with concern. “Would it be possible it could have split across the universes, like the one inside of Epistemus did?” He asked of his close friend.

“ _Split_?” Gai asked, curiously looking at Drift.

“We have a theory that the Omega Guardian we encountered in our own universe may have split itself across universes,” Rodimus answered, looking down at Gai and leaned forwards as he propped his arms on the edge of the table before him. “The one that took over our universe’s Epistemus—well, it’s a long and complicated story, but in short, it wasn’t as strong as some of the others who’ve breached the universes.”

“We think, anyways—since Epistemus had changed himself into an object in our universe, a femme was easily able to crush the object and we hadn’t heard from that particular Omega Guardian since,” Drift added to Rodimus’ simplified explanation. “Since we’ve discovered our kind in an existence in this universe, some of the same mechs and femmes—we’re wary that the same Epistemus it took over in our universe, also took over the Epistemus that exists here. Because his compatriots are fairly certain he’s been _‘possessed’_.”

“ _Hmmm_. These Omega Guardians seem far more troublesome than they should legitimately be,” Gai mumbled, rubbing his chin lightly.

“There was the corpse of one in our universe—which made a kind of super-space conduit,” Rodimus said, making sure he remembered all of the details, he began writing it down on a nearby sheet of paper used for jotting notes from books. Then he handed the paper to Gai. “We called them _‘The Warrens’_ and they were dangerous to use for travel, but we hadn’t known it was the corpse of an existing being. The Benzene Cluster was where we said was the _‘beginning’_.”

“I see. Well, we call it a different location in many of our universes, but that’s not surprising. We Ultras try to keep species away from that area, because we feel there’s great danger,” Gai explained. “That may be why, if there’s the corpse of a super-powerful extra-dimensional being there.”

All of the sudden Gai’s head snapped up, quickly followed by Rodimus and Drift doing the very same. Gai leapt up from where he was sitting on the table and started looking around, Drift shoved back from the chair and had his servos close to his swords. Rodimus felt a sharp pain lance through his head as his dermal sensor net went off-the-scanners wild. His fuel pump pulsed harder than it ever had before and he suddenly could no longer feel anything or hear anything.

“ _Rodimus?!_ ” Drift gasped, suddenly seeing when the flame-colored mech collapsed against the table and started sinking to the floor.

Gai heard a very familiar cry of a space monster he was familiar with—and was **_not_** looking forward to facing.

And it _wasn’t_ alone.

It was **_possessed_**. And mutated.

“To be honest, you are always so slow on the uptake,” a new voice said, the monoaural voice sounding droll and bored. “You were sent here to try and beat the beast to this planet and you decided to hang about and wait for allies instead of preparing for battle.”

“ _You_ ,” Gai said, his voice going softer and lower as he turned and saw his rival leaning against one of the massive bookshelf endcaps. “How did you know I was here?” He said, his body tensing for a fight.

“I’m not the enemy here, _you know that_. I came to help, because I saw the trail of the being Ultraman Zero defeated flitting across the universe when it collided with _Zetton_ ,” the strange man with the wavy dark hair and red streaks commented, then he gave a very sly smile. “I had to leave where I was and saw the thing take over Zetton. You’d better call for help, because I have a feeling that you and I working together aren’t going to beat this mutated Zetton.”

“Is _he_ a friend of yours?” Drift asked, looking between the two Japanese-looking male aliens.

“ _Once_. But he can be an ally when he wants to be,” Gai responded. “Is Rodimus-kun alright?” He asked, worried as he looked at the flame-colored mech, who seemed to be barely conscious. Drift shook his head. “Can _you_ help, though?” The man asked, jumping down from the table and walking over to Juggler.

“I’ve managed to find a way,” the odd alien male responded with his sly smile and held up his Dark Z-Riser. “To be honest, I had a very lovely adventure without you even showing up whatsoever, though some of your friends did.” Then Juggler looked over at the two Autobots. “The two of you can’t possibly take on this Zetton—you’d better have someone bigger with you or else you had best stay back,” he snapped at the two robots.

“And **_you_** can?” Drift snapped back, glaring at Juggler.

He recognized someone who had been through similar circumstances that he had. Drift may not have known of Juggler’s circumstances, but he saw a kindred Spark of sorts to his own—someone buried in the darkness, reaching for the light. It just seemed that Jugglus Juggler hadn’t come fully all the way into the light, **_yet_**.

“We can save a lovely chat over coffee or whatever you robots drink for later—right now, if we don’t try to deal with the possessed Zetton, there won’t be much of a planet Meb left,” the strange alien man chortled. “I’m almost sorry to have to wreck a lovely skylight like that,” he chuckled, glancing up at the ceiling’s massive stained glass covering. “We’d best get to it. I don’t want that thing going back to somewhere I’d prefer it not to go,” he said, glaring at Gai.

Then Juggler jumped up and shot through the skylight, shattering the glass, which rained down onto the tiled floor below. Gai shook his head and followed, leaping up and following his old friend and rival into battle, raising his Orb Ring and transforming into Ultraman Orb the moment he was outside.

That left Drift to take care of Rodimus. Even as he heard battle cries—of both monsters and strange alien men that grew to gigantic proportions and……….. _very strange forms_ —and crashes and explosions, he spoke softly to Rodimus, trying to get his best friend to say something to him, anything at all.

Then, suddenly, Drift got the **_strangest_** message on his HUD—a message he’d never, **_ever_** seen before and he immediately jumped back and got away from Rodimus. He read the message on his HUD with absolute shock………. _and sudden anger_.

Of all the things that could’ve happened at the most unlikely— _and stupidest_ —of times!

But, then, wasn’t that what **_always_** happened to them? _The most improbable things at the stupidest of times?_

**|Megatron. I need you to come to Meb right now. RIGHT NOW.|**

Drift hadn’t glyph-messaged Megatron in millions of years, but this was a desperate time and was absolutely necessary.

**|What about the plans?|**

Megatron’s generally serious glyph just triggered Drift to become angrier, but he knew it wasn’t all real and natural anger that he was feeling. What was happening with Rodimus was _affecting him_ ………and would affect him even more if Megatron didn’t get here, ASAP.

**|GET HERE NOW OR I WILL KILL YOU. Promise—not mere threat.|**

There was hesitation before Megatron responded.

**|I’m on my way. Protect Rodimus until then.|**

Someone must’ve given Megatron a report on what was going on here on Meb, with the monsters and the giants and the apocalyptic destruction.

“You’d better get here fast, or I’m going to wind up fragging him myself— _and that’ll make a lot of people unhappy_ ,” Drift muttered, wanting to go over to his best friend, but knew that right now, distance was the only thing that would help him fight the urgent messages on his HUD and the sudden swirling heat emanating from the flame-colored mech’s frame.

_A heat cycle flaring up right in the midst of a danger zone, that was truly Rodimus of Nyon’s stellar luck right there._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zetton is called a "space dinosaur" by Ultraman lore...........but to me it looks like a bi-pedal stag beetle. On the side, I've been writing the Ultraman story that happens in the dialogue of this one here--for my friend, likely not to post. That's why Juggler got added. I haven't seen "Ultraman Z" yet, though.........so, I only have what I've been told happened. XD


	5. [A]blaze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rodimus goes into a heat-cycle at the worst time. Things are learned. Secrets are shared
> 
> And a mystery is suddenly uncovered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a long chapter--make a sandwich, grab a drink and strap in...........some pretty heavy and important stuff is gonna happen.
> 
> I need to update these tags one day. Maybe before the next chapter. *laughs*

_ Chapter Five: [A]blaze _

Rodimus of Nyon couldn’t possibly explain what was going on with him. He felt trapped by his own frame and it’s….. _excessively needy needs_. His insides felt like they were melting and his head felt like it had been encased in packing foam— _vision, taste, audial_ ……..all of that was blunt and muffled. He couldn’t even honestly tell where he was, what position he was in (standing, sitting or laying down) or if he was actually conscious or unconscious.

Even if his brain was telling him “ _heat cycle_ ”—this **_wasn’t_** just merely a heat cycle activating. There was something else going on—his own frame, his dermal sensor net, was exploding with information coursing through his fuel lines and circuitry. This **_wasn’t_** medical—it **_wasn’t_** heat cycle— _this was on a scale of life or death!_

He could feel the space kaijuu and the thing inside of it—trying to cause untold death and destruction. He could feel the two aliens—the one who had a human form and a true form known as Ultraman Orb, plus his companion that swirled with darkness and a small ray of light trying to shine through all that darkness—they were _large presences_ , giants on a stature with the space kaijuu that was roaring its strange battle cry and laying waste to this city on the planet Meb.

He could even feel the Mebians………the ones alive and scared and the ones who were dying underneath the destruction of the city. He could feel Drift nearby—both furiously angry and extremely worried at the same time. Rodimus of Nyon was **_burning_** and wondered if he’d be left as cinders in just a few moments, when suddenly a cool presence came up beside him.

He didn’t recognize the being, but the alien had the same strange feel as Kurenai Gai. Organic and something more fused together. Something like “ _pure light_ ”.

“Can you hear me, Rodimus of Nyon?” The strange, monoaural, human-like voice asked. “No, please—you must stay back, this is dangerous and I know you know this……..” it added, the voice aimed in a different direction. “You can call me **_Musashi_** — _Haruno Musashi_ ,” the voice said, softly, turning in attention back focused on Rodimus. “I’m a friend of Gai’s. I’m also an Ultra known as _Cosmos_. I have some abilities which might soothe your anxieties a little bit—I’m going to reach in and touch your…….. ** _Spark_** , all right?”

The voice was kind and pleasant. But **_how_** would a small human reach into his chestplating and touch his Spark? That confused the already-confused flame-colored mech.

All of the sudden, he felt some strange sort of power—or presence— _something!_ —that seemed to push right through his physical frame and surround his Spark-casing very gently. Rodimus began to feel his frame initiate a cooldown sequence and his Spark stopped flaring like it was going to go supernova. Everything began to clear up a little and he felt like he could at least muster up a minimal focus.

“ _Hah………… **heh** …….thank you_,” the flame-colored mech gasped softly. He looked down at the human-looking alien, he had lighter-brown colored hair and had the Japanese look to him that Gai did. He was wearing some kind of uniform jacket that was blue-and-silver with tan pants. “ ** _Sorry_** …….”

“Don’t be sorry. Part of your natural living cycle was becoming mixed up with the chaos going on around you—I think it’s a side-effect of this ability you have, you don’t know how to separate or mesh different signals like this,” the alien male chuckled, smiling up at him kindly.

“How do you…….?” Rodimus asked, settling down onto his aft and cradling his aching head in his servos.

“My unique brand of empathy—I can understand what is usually not understandable, though I generally apply that to _kaijuu_ ,” Musashi chuckled softly. “Asuka— _Ultraman_ _Dyna_ —sent me here, because he had a feeling that Gai might need help of my kind and not just another fighter. He is usually right. Right now, I’m not certain I can reach Zetton, though—it is almost fully subsumed by what’s inside of it.”

Drift crept forwards a little, but Musashi whipped out a hand, waving at him to stay back.

“Your friend is extremely worried, but unfortunately he’s also being affected by your natural cycle activating,” the human-like alien responded, frowning and shaking his head.

“ _Heat-cycle_. Always at the worst of times,” Rodimus sighed, leaning forward and bumping his forehead ridge against his knee-joints. “I’ll be fine, Drift— _just_ ………just tell me you called Megs, right?” He muttered, waving a servo in his Amica’s direction.

“Yes. _I did_. He’s on his way, but………” Drift trailed off, backing away, even though all of his systems were telling him to move in and take the flame-colored mech right now. He tried to keep thoughts of Ratchet in his head to keep from giving into the stupidity happening here right now.

“ _Yeah, yeah_ ………giant monster ravaging the city—how’s Megs gonna find us in all this mess, right?” Rodimus sighed, incycling a deep breath and looking over at his friend, then down at the human-like alien male again. “But Gai can only fight for a few minutes right? And this has been going on for **_more_** than a few minutes— _even I know that much_!”

“Gai’s taking into practice a risky technique he learned from Hikaru and Shou—Ultraman Ginga and Ultraman Victory,” Musashi chuckled, softly. “He’s extending his timer by swapping out of combat with Dyna in thirty-second increments—they’re both making their skills last a bit longer with this tag-team. And Juggler has been of great assistance by covering them and keeping Zetton focused more on the combat with them over the destruction of the city and planet.”

“Is there a way to get this Zetton thing off of the planet?” Drift asked, still trying to keep back, even though he **_wanted_** to get closer to Rodimus.

“We’re working on that. We’re waiting for Ultraman X to get here, between X, Daichi and myself—we _might_ be able to reach the real Zetton in there and get it off of the planet Meb,” Musashi answered. He placed his hands into his pockets. “Your Spark is flaring again, can you handle another round of pain and frustration?” He asked, looking up at Rodimus.

“How do you…….? **_UGGGGHHH_**!” Rodimus groaned as a strange wave of sensation, emotion and pain lanced through him again. It was just like before—when the Zetton monster appeared. It triggered the full-activation of his heat-cycle and his dermal sensor net went crazy.

“Rodimus can’t keep enduring this— ** _I_** _can’t keep enduring this_!” Drift cried, his own systems flaring up new messages of trying to force him into fragging Rodimus.

“Leave, Drift—it may be the best thing you can do for your friend and for yourself,” Musashi said, serenely.

“ _I can’t leave him alone while all this is going on!_ ” The swordsmech screamed, his own anxiety peaking as the messages were becoming more insistent on his HUD.

“I may be a pacifist, but I can protect him—I haven’t transformed yet, so I still have time if I have to enter combat,” Musashi responded. “You need to try and find the one you called—he may need a guide to this specific location.”

“ _He’s_ ……..he’s right………you **_gotta_** go get Megs, Drift—only the presence of his Spark is going to get my frame to stop being so stupid right now……….” Rodimus panted softly, planting one servo on the floor next to him and clawing at the damaged tile of the ruined library.

Drift exvented and incycled and wished he just didn’t feel so angry and helpless right now. He **_knew_** the two of them were right—the longer he lingered in the library, the more likely it would become that he’d give in to the primal urging of a mating process. And it _wouldn’t_ be fair—Drift loved Ratchet and Rodimus loved Megatron………they couldn’t give into this and each other when there were others who held their Sparks. He gave them both a crisp salute and ran out into the chaos of the city to look for Megatron.

“ _Thanks_ ……..thanks for suggesting he leave. He’d never forgive himself if he…….” the flame-colored mech trailed off.

“ _I understand_. You wouldn’t forgive yourself either,” Musashi chuckled. “Seeing beings like you just goes on to prove how **_diverse_** life is in the entire universe— _or multiple universes_. Robotic lifeforms that are _not constructed_ , but born and evolved naturally—you’re no different than us, or kaijuu or other life in the universe.”

Rodimus decided he really liked this strange alien who looked like an Earthling from Japan. This was a being who believed in life— _and protecting all life_ , regardless of what form it might have. It was strange, he could feel so much **_LIGHT_** inside this tiny, human-like form. It was like this being was simply light taking on a container so it could interact with others. And that light was full of warmth……and love…….and wisdom. He hadn’t felt light like this since…………. _since the Matrix merged with his body in order to preserve itself and his own Spark_. Was it possible that light that was the Matrix could be **_alive_** , then? Rodimus **_had_** felt an odd sentience from the Matrix, when he was bonded to it. If that were true—then did it mean that these Ultras were basically lifeforms made of light, which only took a physical container so they could interact with others in the universe?

Then this “ _Haruno Musashi_ ” was right in his admiration of how diverse all life could be in the universe. It, in itself, was a unique lifeform—one that “ _borrowed_ ” another life-form in a physical state so it could interact with them. It **_SHARED THE LIFE_** of the other lifeform it “ _borrowed_ ”.

“Rodimus of Nyon—are you having trouble taming your ability, is that why you’re suffering like this?” Musashi asked, curiously, flexing his hands inside his pockets.

“ ** _I_** ……..I don’t know how to……..” the flame-colored mech trailed off, wonder just how the human-alien being knew of his ability.

“ _You foster light_. Or rather…….. ** _life_**. As I understand from the sense I get from you—your species is born of a spark of light, so I think you understand how equivalent light and life is to one another,” the strange human-looking alien chuckled softly, grinning up at him. “ _You’re a guide_. You have the ability to sense the light and the dark, the life and the death, of individuals. You can inspire them to take their proper paths. But sensing others seems to hurt you. Is there a reason for that?”

“Yeah. _Maybe_. **_Probably_** ,” Rodimus mumbled, thinking back on the loss of Nyon and all he had loved in that crumbling city. “But not all life is full of light………. _that one out there_ , fighting with your friends……..?”

“ _Jugglus Juggler_. Yes, he has problems. But that happens when you live—your light takes on shadow, unfortunately his shadow has eclipsed his light,” Musashi said, seriously, his gaze turning towards the shattered tiles on the library floor. “That’s what there are guides for in life— _people like you_. The universe needs more people like you—who can help those lost in the shadows find their way back to the life they truly want and need.”

Rodimus frowned. But _what use_ was he? Always turned away when he **_tried_** to help……..always ignored when he **_wanted_** to help.

“I think you’ve been lost in a shadow— _you’ve lost your way_. It’s hard to be a guide when _you_ , **_yourself_** , can’t find the way back to where you want to be. _Where you need to be_ ,” the human-looking alien said, shaking his head softly. “You need to stop looking inwards, _at yourself_ —at your own shadows. It’s turning your ability inward, too. All you can see is shadow anymore, _because you’re looking inside_ —instead of outwards. Look outwards— _look at all of those around you_. Look at whether they’re buried in shadows and need help moving past them. It will honestly help you out in the end, as well.”

Rodimus had always felt as if he were meant to help others, but being neglected when he wanted to— _when he **TRIED**_ —was always so painful that he just stopped doing it after awhile. Turning away from all and wrapping himself in an armour of ego to protect himself from more hurt and pain. That was where Megatron found him—found a buried treasure worth having, within him. Then he remembered—that big final fight back in their own universe………..

_Rodimus listened to their voices—the stress and the disappointment that they couldn’t open the Matrix devices. He listened to Megatron trying to fight and console Ultra Magnus at the same time. He really thought he’d done something right—he really felt he chose the right people! Had he been wrong all along…..? A sharp pain stabbed his Spark as he turned to Megatron………_

_“Why isn’t this **working**?! They’re good people!” The flame-colored mech cried sharply. The emotions in his EM field were starting to ripple with his own anxieties as he watched Megatron punch soldiers back with fists and his empty fusion cannon._

_“ **Yes** ,” the grey-colored mech said, soberly, giving Rodimus just a quick glance. “Yes, they are. And **I’m proof**. Without them, I’d never have made it this far,” Megatron said, his old red optics flaring brightly. “But if this is going to work, they need to truly believe they’re worthy…….”_

_Desperation flared in Rodimus’ field. “So, what do I do?” He asked, afraid of the whine in his voice as he felt like he was helpless as everyone he cared about died all around him— **again** , just like in Nyon._

_“Simple. You tell them what they **need to hear** ,” the bulky grey mech responded, his own field calm and a sturdy bulwark against Rodimus’ own flaring emotions._

_What they needed to hear? What could he possibly say that…….. **unless** ……? Rodimus turned his attention to the handheld comm-link in his servos and incycled a deep breath, reaching deep into his Spark for everything he loved, admired and held dear about all those members of his crew fighting hard to survive— **and win!** —this battle._

“I shouldn’t doubt myself, right? Because I **_do_** know what to do—what I should be doing!” Rodimus said, a flaring in his Spark almost making him keel over. “ _Haaaaah_ ………..but will I make it through **_this_** ………” he whispered softly, one servo digging into the broken tile and cemented floor of the library as the other clenched against his chest, above his Spark.

“That’s right. Doubting and hesitating clouds your judgement. Don’t give in to that— _you know exactly what to do_. You’ve known it all along,” Musashi said, grinning up at the flame-colored mech as he felt a renewed surge of positive emotions from the Autobot, even as he felt the other stuff the mech’s heat-cycle was making him feel. He didn’t mind Cosmos’ sensitivity most times and he’d certainly felt a lot worse than surges of lust from alien species. “And you **_will_** make it through, because your friend finally succeeded. He’s on his way back with your mate.”

“ _Thank Primus_ ………..” Rodimus whispered softly.

* * * * *

“ _Drift—thank Primus I’ve finally found you!_ ” Megatron said as he climbed over some rubble in the street and saw the white-and-grey mech’s armour gleam with a flash of light from the fighting above. “Is everything all right? You’ve……”

“ _Had to_. It was **_killing_** me, Megatron,” Drift grunted, a little sharper than he intended. “You know. I liked him, too—and as a former Decepticon, there’s a part of me that’s okay with _multiple partners_. But I want to be better and that means I should **_only_** need Ratchet, now.”

Megatron nodded, understanding the conflicting feelings of his former soldier and now just a crew member on the same ship.

“The one I left him with is like **_them_** ,” the swordmech added, pointing up to the silver-and-colorful giants that were fighting the weird black-and-yellow space kaijuu. “He said he’d protect Rodimus and fight if he had to—it’s weird, but this alien-that-looked-like-a-human kind of reminded me a little of Rodimus, the way he felt to my field and everything.”

He began to lead Megatron back to the broken library. The two mechs didn’t really talk much as they concentrated on avoiding the giants and the kaijuu—and all the destruction going on around them. Drift and Megatron could see Star Saber’s crew doing everything they could to help citizens and protect them. Megatron and Ultra Magnus had asked for any crew on the _Lost Light_ who wanted to help to come down and do so as well.

“Rodimus is _really great_. I know how he acted and I know he opened up to me a little more than the others,” Drift said, softly, as they got closer to the library. “ _And I know I hurt him_. And thank you for not being the one who hurt him like I did— ** _I_** don’t like your relationship, _I don’t approve of it_ ……..but you haven’t intentionally hurt him since starting a relationship with him and he loves you so very much.”

“I truly cherish him, Drift—he’s a beacon of light in the darkness. _He is my guiding light_ ,” Megatron responded, just as softly.

“I know you couldn’t control what happened with the Trylians. I know that _wasn’t_ your fault—just, **_seriously_** , please don’t let that happen again,” the swordsmech sighed, making a motion to the library and stood back. “I’m going to go see what I can do to help everyone else around here—you take Rodimus back to the ship and take care of what he needs to get through this.”

“ _Understood_ ,” Megatron answered with a succinct nod. Then he went into the broken building to look for Rodimus.

It really wasn’t all that hard to find him—Spark-bond or not, the EM field in the area was blaring with need. _Any Cybertronian_ probably would’ve gone mad with the heat and fire and need in the emotions of the EM field in the area. It was a good thing he had been made aware of a human-sized alien in the vicinity—or else he may have stepped on Haruno Musashi in his beeline straight towards Rodimus.

This was utterly different than when **_he_** , himself, gone into his heat-cycle a few months back.

“Thank you for watching over him, I truly appreciate it,” Megatron said, kneeling down so as not to intimidate Musashi too much.

But the human-like alien wasn’t perturbed by Megatron’s size, field or presence whatsoever. He put his hands in the pockets of his blue-and-silver jacket and smiled up at the former Decepticon Leader.

“It’s not a problem at all. Rodimus and I have much in common with one another—and being that I’m not of your species, it’s not making either of us act insane or…….. _otherwise_ ………right now,” Musashi answered with a light chuckle.

That was when Megatron could feel something akin to an EM field from the human-like alien. As he had been on Earth ( _and practically conquered it_ ) once, he was familiar with humans in general and **_none of them_** felt like this male human-looking alien did. It went to show that this was no mere human being……….!

“My other friends, the ones who are going to help me with Zetton, have just arrived. If you are alright with taking Rodimus—then I’ll leave him to you,” the male said with a smile as he pulled some strange thing out of his pocket.

“Of course,” Megatron said, nodding in understanding.

Musashi held up the strange device and looked towards the light streaming down from the broken skylight. “ _Cosmos!!!_ ” He called, his voice sounding stranger and echoing oddly—as if the voice was more than his own.

There was a brilliant flash of light and Megatron had to cover his optics—then when the light faded, the human-like alien was gone………but his presence, his feel to the Cybertronian EM field, was now outside—with the others that were like him. _The giants of light_. Megatron left that to the ones who could fight and knelt down beside Rodimus, even as his HUD began to flash with messages—ones that urged him to go straight into interfacing right now. As much as the former Decepticon Leader loved fragging others—and especially Rodimus—he knew he had to delay those insistent messages and get his sparkmate back to the _Lost Light_.

That was the only place they’d have the safety and security to deal with this problem properly.

Rodimus splayed a servo over the Autobot emblem on Megatron’s chest and looked desperately up into his older lover’s optics. His mouth moved, though no sounds came out, but the words “I love you” were so obvious on those lips. Megatron had to fight his own responsive instincts hard, as he leaned down and gently pressed a kiss to Rodimus’ damp forehead. Then he scooped up the flame-colored mech into his arms and stood up.

**|First Aid—please get plenty of Energon ready at our hab suite and be there to do a pre-system check on Rodimus when I get back.|**

As soon as Megatron sent the glyph to the Chief Medical Officer, then he sent a quick second one to Ultra Magnus.

**|Magnus. I’m sorry if this seems irresponsible, but Rodimus is my priority. Please do your best to take care of the situation in our absence.|**

The bulky grey mech found his way back to his speeder that he brought down to the planet and was very thankful it hadn’t been destroyed in the past few moments by the apocalypse happening in this city on Meb. He got them back to the _Lost Light_ without any problems and was walking rapidly towards his and Rodimus’ hab suite, growling and putting warning in his EM field to anyone who paused around them and started moving in the direction of Rodimus and his blaring, need-filled field.

“Now it’s his turn, _hmmm_?” First Aid chuckled as Megatron stomped into the hab suite, almost ready to murder anyone else near them—his own protocols starting to overwhelm him in this situation. He incycled deep, stuttering breaths and set Rodimus down on the berth. “ _Mmmm_. This feels much different than yours. I wonder if it’s his ability or if it’s because he’s a carrier……” the small Autobot medic murmured as he leaned up on the tips of his pedes to peer down the flame-colored mech’s intake.

Megatron had to go stand at the farthest side of the room and he grabbed one of the throw pillows on the couch, beginning to knead it and dig his digits into the plushness. He had to force himself not to go crazy and hurt anyone in the room right now—that was **_not him_** and that was touching Rodimus.

First Aid lightly patted Rodimus on the chest and said something soft and encouraging to him, then turned to Megatron and saw that the angry crushing of the pillow was beginning to tear the seams and filling began oozing out of it.

“ ** _Captain Megatron_** ,” the small medic said loudly and forcefully, his EM field displaying pure command, as it would in a medical emergency. The bulky grey mech gave a jerk and a startle and came to attention—which felt like the strangest thing Megatron had _ever_ reacted to. “You’re a smart mech. Observe what happens with this mating— _it’s very important_. Please report to me if there are problems and give me a status update whenever you can.”

“ ** _Yes_** _. Yes, of course_ ,” Megatron responded, after clearing his intake with a few deep swallows of breath.

“Rodimus is _different_. He isn’t just a carrier, but he has that dermal sensor net—it may be more overwhelming for him, please do your best to hold back and take care of him properly,” First Aid added, more stern command in his voice as he walked towards the door and pointed at the nearby crate. “Premium and med-grade. Don’t forget to change up the fueling type during rest-times.”

Though Ratchet had been hesitant for a while to hand over the CMO position to First Aid—it was _absolutely clear_ the small medic had the ability to command in medical emergencies. He had full control of his EM field and his own dermal sensor net, which he could use to soothe or gently control a patient’s emotional status to make medical issues go more easily. The fact that First Aid could put enough command into his voice and field to make Megatron come to attention said a lot about the small Autobot medic’s skills.

“ _I understand_ ,” the bulky grey mech responded, his grip on the pillow relaxing and he incycled some more deep breaths.

“As a carrier, Rodimus’ cycle may go a little longer than the typical three days. If you think there are problems or that there’s something _wrong_ about what’s happening— _please call for me immediately_ ,” the small medic added, firm command still in his voice. “I need you to use your Spark-bond and keep a close monitoring of the situation—a mech or femme with the dermal sensor net can be unpredictable during a heat-cycle. If you feel there is **_ANYTHING_** — _anything at all_ —wrong with the interfacing, the need or the situation, then………stop immediately anything physical, beyond just hugging and comfort.”

Megatron swallowed a bit of a nervous incycle of breath. He realized that First Aid was cautioning him—this **_wasn’t_** a mere frag-fest, because Rodimus wasn’t just a normal mech or femme in a heat-cycle. Rodimus was likely to be extremely sensitive to any and all emotions because of his dermal sensor net.

“ ** _H-hey_** ….. _I’m still_ ……..I’m still present in this room, you know,” Rodimus panted, his voice low and barely able to be heard in the chaos of emotions filling fields in the room and drowning out most common sense for at least two of the three mechs in the room.

“I know you are, Rodimus—which is why I want **_you_** to do what your Spark feels is right. **_Megatron_** is the one who has to watch for trouble, because **_you_** don’t like to speak up when you are in trouble,” First Aid chided softly, turning to glance at the flame-colored mech. “You have a tendency to stand and take it—though in this situation, you might be _laying back and taking it_ ,” he said—then gave a light, wry chuckle as he closed that statement with a little double entendre. “If it **_is_** a serious problem, then you don’t just surrender because you love this fool and you know how much he likes interfacing. Doing damage to yourself in the name of love is something Megatron would not be happy with you over—and he would be unhappy with himself if he just gave in to all of the protocols and didn’t stop to think there was actually something wrong.”

Both Megatron and Rodimus nodded at First Aid.

“This is your chance—to find what it means to be truly bonded to one another,” the small medic said, reaching up his servo to wave it before the sensor panel. “ _Don’t squander it._ I’m locking you in for three days and I’ll come back to refresh the lock if you need longer.”

Then the door closed behind the _Lost Light_ ’s Chief Medical Officer, with a soft little chirping sound for a moment as the CMO override code was put in for the lock.

Megatron slowly walked over to the berth, the scrunched up pillow still in his servos, as he began gently kneading it again. Rodimus reached up and slid his servos up the sides of Megatron’s jawline, lightly cupping the faceplate between facial ridges and the edges of his helm.

“ _Um_ ,” Megatron murmured, for once at a **_complete loss_** of his wonderful command of words. “First Aid is right. This is _very intense_ and I probably might surrender to all of these commands flooding my HUD, because I do enjoy fragging—and I very much enjoy fragging you, my lovely flame.”

“ _Yeah_. And I……….I’ll try to not just take it, you know. I’ll……..I’ll try to let you know if something feels wrong, _but_ ……..” the flame-colored mech mumbled. Then he slid his servos onto Megatron’s broad chestplating, digits tracing the decorative swirls on either side of the Autobot brand in the center of the chestplate. He felt a twinging and pang in his Spark as he thought about the deeper meaning of First Aid’s parting words. _Not to squander the moment_. That’s what his own program was telling him, too— _don’t waste this chance_.

A Spark-bonding while fragging had a low chance of sparking-up a carrier, just under normal circumstances. As Rodimus had been reading, it was somewhere around a 10% chance of spark-up under normal circumstances. For a _normal_ carrier and a _normal_ sire doing _normal_ Spark-bonding and fragging at the same time, **_normally_**.

A spark-up during a heat-cycle had much better chances. It was closer to a 90% chance for spark-up if a sire and a carrier Spark-bonded while interfacing at the same time. Something about special protocols activating under the conditions of a heat-cycle. The 90% was general for whether it was the carrier or the sire coming into a heat-cycle. All said, it was still a 10% chance nothing would happen then, but it wasn’t as rare a chance as “ _normal circumstances_ ”.

If the carrier were in a heat-cycle, that chance went up to 93% though. Because the carrier was the truly receptive Spark in the situation—they would carry the newspark for all of the cycle. But if both sire and carrier were in heat-cycle at the same time, it was a 95% chance for spark-up with all the proper circumstances—because all protocols were aligned in both partners.

It was still a 5% fail rate of a spark-up, though. Which is why naturally-born sparklings hadn’t been seen in millions of years. The rarity of the instance and the rarity of a pairing who might go into a heat-cycle together actually being a “ _sire_ ” and a “ _carrier_ ” together also detracted from it—since a lot of paired mechs and femmes had found they were both sires or both carriers.

But if **_all_** of the convergence of those elements came together—it would be like fate, _like a miracle_. 

And wasn’t that what forging new life was anyways?

A miracle waiting to happen?

“ ** _I_** ……..I think this is my chance, Megs. **_I think_** ……….. _mmm-mmm_ ……no, I **_know_** I want it,” Rodimus said, very softly, as Megatron pressed his lips against the top ridge of his helm. “ ** _I want to forge a sparkling with you_**.”

Maybe the small element to kick them up to the 95% success rate, Megatron also being in a heat-cycle, wasn’t there. But there was 93% percent of the possibility now, because _Rodimus was a carrier_. But something more than that, Rodimus of Nyon had his special ability. They didn’t quite know what it was, but after talking with the human-like alien going by “ _Haruno Musashi_ ”……to understand his ability was something like guidance—Rodimus felt he knew that there was more than a 93% chance right now.

Rodimus of Nyon was _absolutely certain_ that if they did it—Spark-bonded and interfaced at the same time during this heat-cycle of Rodimus’— ** _he knew the chance was 100%._**

“ ** _Megatron of Tarn—I want to forge a sparkling with you_** ,” Rodimus said, loudly and more firmly as he gazed up into the faded red optic glass of his sparkmate.

* * * * *

After taking separate showers in the washrack, the two sparkmates finally came to the berth together—dry and ready for anything. _For everything_. To take a chance, to give in to the gamble to forge new life.

Megatron hadn’t been completely surprised when Rodimus said it, but hesitated a few moments before agreeing, because he wasn’t sure if it was Rodimus of Nyon speaking with him—or the protocols of the mech’s heat-cycle speaking for triggering the event. But when he gazed down into the brightly glowing blue optic glass, the expression he saw on the flame-colored mech’s faceplate said that the younger mech was completely in charge of his senses when he said it.

_Forging a new life_.

For two mechs, whose lives had been cluttered with the taking of lives, accidental or actual—the chance— ** _THE ABILITY!!!_** —to be able to bring a new life into the universe with their own servos (or, rather, their frames!). This was something neither of them wanted to take the chance of passing up, of wasting the opportunity to do so.

“Rodimus of Nyon, will you do me the honor of showing me your Spark?” Megatron asked, gently clasping the flame-colored mech’s servo and raising it to his lips.

Rodimus nodded softly. He reached his servos down to his chestplate and hesitated. 

“ _Umm._ Just this once………would you, **_umm_** ,” the flame-colored mech murmured, his digits curling across the flame decals that had been placed on his chestblock months back. “I know I always complain about being **_Hot Rod_**. But Hot Rod was who I was born………. ** _I_** ……..call me by my true name right now, okay?”

Megatron reached over and brushed a few digits under the flame-colored mech’s chin and tilted his head up, bringing his lips down lightly over the younger mech’s.

“ _My brilliant and beautiful flame_ ,” the bulky grey mech whispered, passionately. “ ** _My amazing Hot Rod_**.”

Rodimus’ Spark felt like it flared with the intensity of a supernova. He felt tears welling at the microseams of his optics. The flame-colored mech knew the name would sound **_perfect_** spoken by his sparkmate. They were both broken and wounded mechs who found each other—and **_that_** meant everything in the universe to Rodimus.

His servos shot up and cupped the sides of Megatron’s helm, pulling the taller mech’s head down as he crashed his lips against his lover’s. His arms slid about Megatron’s neck as his lover opened his mouth and pressed his glossa in, sliding it against Rodimus’ own glossa and down towards the back of his intake. Before he knew it, Rodimus had hitched one leg over Megatron’s hip and began grinding his groinplating against the bulky grey mech’s own. And then he hitched the other one up over Megatron’s other hip, when large black servos slid down to cup his aft. Soon he was being held up off the ground by his lover, grinding his groinplating eagerly against the older mech’s, their kisses getting wetter and sloppier, making their faceplates damp with condensation and oral fluids.

Before Rodimus could even tell his frame “ _not yet!_ ”, his array snapped open and he was rubbing wet mesh and a hard spike against Megatron’s groinplating and abdomen. He didn’t care, his heat-cycle and carrier protocols suddenly shifted into “ _now, now, now_ ” and “ _want, want, want_ ” with a heavy dose of “ ** _NEED, NEED, NEED_** ”—all flaring out into his EM field and surrounding Megatron with its insistent demands.

Rodimus’ anterior node scraped against Megatron’s groinplating and the friction was driving the younger mech crazy as he began grinding himself harder against his lover. Megatron just held onto Rodimus tightly as the mech drove himself up to arousal and right into a sense-numbing overload, going slack against the bulkier frame. That was when Megatron backed them over to the berth and laid Rodimus back on the thing, pulling the hips to the edge as much as he could.

The flame-colored mech seemed to be happy with the overload he just had and felt a bit lazy as pleasure rippled through his frame. He rubbed servos over his chestplating and one drifted down to brush his own spike, feeling that it was still half-erect and still leaking with a bit of transfluid. He gently rubbed the glowing reddish-orange transfluid pressure line on the underside and Megatron watched the display a bit hungrily, swiping his glossa over his lips and fangs.

“ _Your……. **um**_ , your Spark please,” Megatron said, after clearing his intake and trying to regain a little bit of sense.

“ _Mmmm_. Oh yeah, **_that_** ,” Rodimus mumbled, one servo still lazily stroking his spike, which had begun to get a bit harder and jutted out more from his frame, rather than lying in a half-erect state on his abdominal area. He fumbled with one side and pulled open his chestplating, as the servo playing with his spike had gripped it and began jerking it a bit with more enthusiasm.

The EM field of the younger mech was just swirling all around the berth area and pushed against Megatron’s own field, which he was trying to keep tamer, though it was really difficult to do so when his own protocols were demanding he get straight down to fragging the sexually seductive mech laying on the berth before him. But Megatron drew his optics up to the open chestplate and the brilliantly glowing blue-white Spark within it. The Spark-casing had irised open wide and it was **_definitely_** inviting the opportunity for a Spark-bond.

The older grey mech swiped his glossa over his lips again and incycled a deep breath as he opened his array. His spike was instantly erect and at full attention, it clearly knew the situation a lot better than Megatron himself did. The older mech gently reached down and spread Rodimus’ damp mesh lightly, to make sure there was enough lubricant for the interfacing, before he guided the spear-like tip of his spike into the folds and pushed in.

He heard Rodimus make what was possibly the sexiest moan he’d _ever_ heard the younger mech make, as the backstrut arched and arms reached to try and pull Megatron down on top of him. They were halfway there on the attempt………

_‘One-hundred percent chance?’_ Megatron thought, as he recalled what Rodimus said about how he felt about being able to do it, as they were getting themselves cleaned up and dried off before coming to this point now. _‘A sparkling with this beautiful mech I have come to love.’_

The idea of it was overwhelming and also very much desired by them both.

Megatron lowered himself down over Rodimus, opening his own chestplating. He felt his Spark flaring in response to that of its nearby mate and had to resist Rodimus trying to yank him down instantly, by digging digits into his tank treads and pulling hard. He made sure that their Sparks had a chance to pull to each other and not be slammed against each other, Megatron felt the flares of their Sparks reach for each other and twine, pulling them both to the openings of their own Spark-casings, to touch one another.

Megatron’s optics offlined and he felt Rodimus’ frame go a bit more slack against him, as he pushed his hips into the frame beneath him a little harder. Rodimus hips bucked against him a couple times, eagerly, but mostly the flame-colored mech had gone quiet and mostly still. Megatron felt the same serene stillness overcome him, though his groin ground against Rodimus, thrusting every so often of its own whim and will. They sank into one another, both physically and metaphysically.

_The environment had changed a little since the first time they had Spark-bonded._

_Megatron’s inner world had become a spiralling pathway in the shape of a sphere—taking on elements of Rodimus’ own inner world._

_Rodimus’ inner world of a spiralling path had gained shape into a sphere, where the path went from north pole to south pole._

_The images had taken new shapes. Not simply marks in the layers of the sphere or viewscreens on a path. They were almost like art holospheres littered around now. Brushing the image moments would show the moments—from both perspectives._

_Their inner worlds had melded and molded to one another, showing their eternal bond and promises to one another by choosing the Spark-bond._

_In the center of the sphere, where the path spiralled inwards towards a core……servos with a sliver of light in their palms, crushed into one another, pressing the lights together as their digits twined and curled and became something **unbreakable**._

And before either of them knew it, it was over—the Spark-bonding and the interfacing that accompanied it. Both mechs were incycling and exventing heavily against one another, Megatron barely keeping himself away enough so as not to crush Rodimus’ frame beneath his heavier weight.

“In a million…….. _in a billion years_ ……I’d have never done this with anyone else. Not ever before,” Megatron murmured as he felt Rodimus’ servo reach up and stroke his helm fondly.

“ _Yeah_. It **_was_** pretty fantastic, wasn’t it?” The flame-colored mech chuckled. “And your spike is still hard as a foundation pillar—seriously, you **_still_** that horny?”

“Says the mech whose EM field is screaming _‘frag me, now’_ at the highest intensity it could possibly have,” the bulky grey mech muttered, rubbing his faceplate in Rodimus’ neck as he breathed in the scents of overload and condensation and fluids.

“ _Fair enough_ ,” the flame-colored mech murmured, digging his digits into Megatron’s tank-treads, which he knew drove the mech crazy. “It’s weird, my Spark clearly knows _‘enough is enough’_ —I can feel it closed up the Spark-casing to normal.”

“Mine, as well. I’m going to pull up,” Megatron responded, planting his servos to Rodimus’ sides and started to push himself up off of the younger mech.

“ ** _Don’t you dare pull out!_** ” Rodimus cried, banging a fist on Megatron’s helm roughly.

“ _Oh_?” The bulky grey mech chortled, his voice suddenly taking on its normal teasing tone that it had when he was enjoying interfacing and foreplay—and after play and more foreplay and more fragging. Megatron lightly bucked his hips, which made the pointed tip of his spike jab hard at a cluster of sensor nodes deep in Rodimus’ valve. Light charges and a few spurts of transfluid erupted against the nodes and Rodimus arched his back, keening softly with pleasure.

“ _Nnnngh…..please……… **please** ……..!_” He panted softly, his servos skidding over his sides and abdomen anxiously.

“ _My beautiful Hot Rod_ ,” the grey-colored mech murmured, his deep voice soft and full of love as his servos gently cupped Rodimus’ quivering hips after he closed up both their chestplates.

The tone of Megatron’s voice and the feel of the familiar field wrapped around his—plus the long, thick spike driven deep inside his valve—almost sent Rodimus spiralling into another numbing overload, but he tried to hold back to enjoy the interfacing just a little bit longer with a slightly clearer head.

“ ** _Nnnngh_** ……..Megs……..you feel _so great_ fragging me……..” the flame-colored mech panted, his optics offlining has he arched his back again with pleasure. Digits of one servo curled around the lower edge of his chestblock shape, while his other servo rubbed, palm pushing down hard, on his abdomen. He wanted to reach for his spike, squeeze it and jerk it, but he knew if he did, he’d go straight into overload and he wanted to enjoy the climb just a little bit longer.

Megatron slithered his field, full of love and heated lust, all around Rodimus’ own EM field, which rippled with its own longing and need. But more than that, Rodimus could feel what Megatron needed and what he wanted—and what felt right—with his dermal sensor net. For the first time, it wasn’t making him feel pain or suffering—it was guiding him, as well as helping him to guide his lover, in this process. Maybe that’s what Musashi meant—if he listened to the dermal sensor net he had, instead of feeling like he had to control it or it controlled him.

He _had_ to listen to it, because it knew what Rodimus should be doing with the gift of its presence. And right now, it was making this heat-cycle pleasurable and bearable (not a burden or a mindless frag-fest) for them both. He listened to his frame—and he let his frame listen to Megatron’s frame—so that their desires and needs came together, rather than clashing and colliding. A heat-cycle was trigger and response in protocols for both mechs or femmes, but it didn’t have to be desperate—it could be like a well-deserved vacation for partners.

Megatron leaned forwards again, moving down to kiss Rodimus—gaining an enthusiastic response—and then it wasn’t long before overload consumed them both again.

_And over-and-over again._

* * * * *

To Rodimus, it could’ve been done in two days. He let himself enjoy Megatron’s undivided attention for the third day, just because he loved his sparkmate and enjoyed his company. The flame-colored mech sang to himself as he showered in the washrack alone. Megatron was busy making his notes on the heat-cycle presentable to First Aid before he took his own shower. Then they swapped places and Rodimus began tidying up the hab. He organized the empty cans of Energon back into the crates to take them down to recycling on the way to the medi-bay.

“ _Hey, Megs—I’m heading down to medi-bay! Then I’m gonna make profuse apologies to Magnus!_ ” The flame-colored mech called, lifting the two crates and heading out when he heard the CMO lock override disengage with a light chirp.

“All right, I’ll be along in a bit,” the deep voice called back, echoing in the tiled room of the washrack.

Rodimus sang softly to himself on the way to the recycling room, he dropped off the crates of cans and then headed straight for the medi-bay, where Ultra Magnus was just coming out of.

“ _Oh!_ Hey, Magnus— _um, look_. I know I had no control over what happened—and I’m sorry it took Megatron and me out of the action at a desperate moment……..” Rodimus began, reaching up to rub the back of his neck as he turned his gaze down to the floor.

Ultra Magnus made an odd little sound. “ _I know_. When the protocols become active, you can’t deactivate them again,” he sighed softly.

“What happened on Meb? _How_ ……….how bad is it?” The flame-colored mech asked, planting his servos on his hips and finally looking up at his friend’s faceplate.

“We’re still here. We’ll be here for awhile. We’re aiding with the reconstruction, as is Solomus’ crew,” the old Autobot soldier responded, holding up a datapad. He hesitated before handing it to Rodimus, wondering if he should give it to Megatron instead. “Your……… _strange friends_ are still here, they’re helping as well.”

“ _Oh! Then I have to go down and see them!_ Besides, I gotta go help out,” Rodimus answered, grinning brilliantly as he took the datapad.

Ultra Magnus was surprised at how happy and positive Rodimus was right now, despite everything that happened. The positivity in the flame-colored mech’s EM field was just something Magnus had _never_ felt before. Maybe coming into a heat-cycle was the best thing for him, given all the events that had happened lately.

“I have a lot of work to do. Tell Megatron to report to me as soon as he can,” the powerful older mech said, giving Rodimus a polite nod and brief salute as he walked past and down the hallway. 

Rodimus said an affirmative as he entered the medi-bay, starting to scan the report. He’d have to read it in-depth more later, but for now he’d give it to Megatron when the bulky grey mech got to the medi-bay for his post-heat-cycle checkup.

“ _Rodimus!_ How are you feeling?” Velocity asked as she looked up from her desk when he came in.

“Pretty good, actually,” the flame-colored mech chuckled. “I’ll head over to exam room…….. _uhh_ , number two looks open?” He said, peering down the small corridor to see what exam rooms had open doors.

“I’ll let First Aid know you’re here, then,” the teal-and-white colored femme chuckled softly.

Rodimus walked to exam room #2 and settled himself in, after putting a note with his designation-glyph on the slot outside the door that generally held a patient’s file tablet. He made sure to shut the door, to indicate a patient was waiting. He didn’t have to wait all that long, to be honest, so First Aid must have been almost done with his current patient—with nobody else on the roster at the moment. But if people were helping out on Meb, odds were that general checkups had been cancelled for the time being.

“Hey there, Rodimus—how are you feeling?” The small medic asked, possibly a grin beneath his medical facial shield, since he seemed to be in a rather good mood himself.

“I feel _really good_ , First Aid. _I think_ ……….I think you might get a chance to observe a **_new medical condition_** over the next year,” Rodimus answered with a light little chuckle.

First Aid clapped his servos together with delight.

“I dunno, I feel like the chance was one-hundred percent—I feel like we _really did it_ and it’s **_gonna happen_** ,” the flame-colored mech said, reaching up to rub the back of his neck anxiously, though he was grinning with excitement. “There was one of the human-like aliens, we talked……… _I think_ …….I think he’s right on what my dermal sensor net is for. When I was with Megatron the last few days, I decided to try and just let it happen naturally and it really felt like it was working the way it was **_supposed_** to……..”

“ ** _This_** is even better news. Though nothing can be as exciting as a potential sparkling. You’ll have to tell me about your talk with this alien,” the small medic said, taking a seat after he did some general once-overs on Rodimus’ frame and let the room sensors collect the remainder of the data.

So, Rodimus talked about what he and Haruno Musashi spoke of—about his ability being linked to guiding others. That the dermal sensor net was really meant to help sense another person’s “ _state of being_ ”, so to speak—and offer a sense of how to guide the person on a better path for their lives. In the explanations, First Aid felt that it wasn’t all that different from what they suspected a healer-priest would do with their dermal sensor net—something part-medical and part-spiritual. Mental and emotional health was just as important as any _physical_ issues of health.

“I’m still not sure I have a complete handle on it, but I think I do understand it a lot better now—after relaxing and letting it happen,” Rodimus chuckled, kicking his pedes lightly against the edge of the medical berth he was sitting on the edge of. “I’ve been railing against it, ignoring it and just generally hating it all my life……….so, it was working against me. Once I stopped doing that, once I started listening to it and with it—it _doesn’t_ hurt now and it feels honestly right.”

“According to that alien, you were looking inwards instead of outwards—your ability is meant to help others and not hurt yourself,” First Aid murmured softly, tapping a digit against his knee as he listened and evaluated Rodimus’ explanation given by the human-like alien. “It does seem to make a lot of sense. A lot of _unscientific sense_ , but given what Censerre has been saying about it—I didn’t think I’d get scientific data out of it anyways. But it **_IS_** like a Shepherd’s ability………so, it **_is_** documented—not well, but still a documented ability phenomenon.”

“Now that I’m not fighting it, maybe we can figure out what it _actually_ is,” Rodimus murmured, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

“It sounds like progress. Now, I don’t see anything wrong or off after a post-heat-cycle, so I’ll release you for duty. You’re going to go down to Meb and help?” The small CMO asked, curiously.

“ _Yeah_ ,” the flame-colored mech said, grinning at the little medic.

“Good luck,” First Aid said as they walked out of the room together.

Megatron was just being walked to exam room #1, by Velocity, as they came out.

“Here, big guy— _Magnus’ report_ ,” Rodimus said with a grin, as he handed the datapad to his lover. “I’m goin’ down to the planet to help. Magnus wants you to report to him when you’re done here,” he added, reaching up and giving him a light kiss on the cheek.

“Very well—are we in much trouble?” Megatron chuckled softly.

“He was grumbly, but he couldn’t really complain about us just going off on our own without valid reason,” the flame-colored mech responded with a grin as he started walking backwards towards the main area of the medi-bay. “Totally valid **_MEDICAL_** reasons why we were outta commission! See ya later, Megs!” He called, turning about and eagerly walking fast out the doors and down to the shuttle bay to see if there was a small speeder he could take down to the planet.

Once down on the planet—he easily found Drift first, the bright beacon of his best friend’s Spark. Now he seemed to have a light sense of nearly everyone around him, especially if they had EM fields or Sparks. So, he could easily pick out Solomus’ crew and the _Lost Light_ crew and noted how some Sparks seemed “ _familiar_ ” and some didn’t feel any familiarity at all—perhaps showing that, instinctively, Rodimus **_knew_** his own crew.

“You look— _and feel_ —a whole lot better, Rodimus,” Drift said, optics carefully looking up-and-down the frame of his Amica.

“I feel **_AMAZING_** , Drift,” the flame-colored mech laughed. “Have you seen Gai or any of the others? I wanted to see them before they left…….” he asked, curiously.

“They are _so strange_. You know, I do remember when I was on Earth—I thought I’d heard about one of them, _an Ultraman_. I was in Japan for awhile. So, it makes me think that they’ve visited the Earth that **_we_** were familiar with,” the swordsmech answered. “I asked the one that was with Gai— _Ultraman Dyna_ , but I think he’s going by Shin Asuka in the human form he’s wearing. He told me he thought he knew which one was on our Earth, but he didn’t say who, because he wasn’t one-hundred percent certain.”

“ _Cool_. I’m gonna go look for them. If you need me, just glyph,” Rodimus added, quickly giving Drift a tight hug before dashing off. He tried to follow his new working senses to find the beings of light, as he remembered sensing them before he’d been taken back to the _Lost Light_ by Megatron. Gai’s light was the most familiar to him—he found it near the one that was mostly darkness with a small ray of light within it.

But he came upon the **_unfamiliar_** one, first—which _must’ve_ been Ultraman Dyna/Shin Asuka. He looked a little older in age than Gai and just slightly older than Musashi had. For a **_human_** , anyways. He had blonde-ish hair, but still looked Japanese—it was one of those colored-blonde styles—and he was wearing a uniform of some sort that had the colors of red, black and grey in it. It was a definite full uniform, where Haruno Musashi’s outfit looked to be half of a uniform (casual pants with a uniform jacket). But Asuka’s jacket was tied around his waist and he was wearing a tight white tee-shirt that showed off he had _really good muscle-structure_ for someone who looked to be the age he looked to be.

“ _Um, hi!_ ” Rodimus called as he carefully came up to the human-like alien, so as not to scare him.

Just as Musashi wasn’t bothered by Megatron’s size or form whatsoever, Asuka didn’t seem to notice Rodimus being bigger and taller than he was. He turned to the Autobot with a pleasant smile and warmth in his dark brown eyes.

“ _Afternoon_. You must be Gai’s friend, Rodimus,” the man said, setting down the box of food supplies he had in his arms. He dusted off his gloved hands and then placed them on his hips as he looked up at the flame-colored mech.

“ _Yeah_. I wanted to thank…….. _ummm_ , that **_Musashi_** guy. He watched over me and talking with him helped……..” Rodimus trailed off.

“Musashi had to go with Daichi and X—they took Zetton to the Land of Light for Hikari to look over,” Asuka answered. “I _will_ let him know that you’re thankful, though.”

“ _Okay_. Thanks for fighting—for helping Gai fight—that Zetton thing,” Rodimus said, not really knowing how to talk to this particular stranger. He seemed a little more formal and mature than Gai did.

“Did you just think I was mature? _I appreciate that sentiment!_ ” Asuka laughed warmly. “I’m sorry, but you **_do_** seem to broadcast a little bit. But, then, I’m more familiar with a lot of species across the universes than many other Ultra, since Dyna and I have been travelling together for a very long time.”

Rodimus laughed warmly. “ _Sorry_. I do get the sense that despite the human-like forms, a lot of you are really, _really_ old. Maybe not as old as some of us Cybertronians, but like way older than an _actual human_ ,” he added with a smile down at the alien.

“You’re right on that point. Here, let me take you to where Gai and Juggler are. I was taking food to them, anyways,” Asuka said, picking up the box of food stuff again. He chatted with light conversational topics (such as the weather) as he led Rodimus down some broken side roads to something that looked like a plaza area and the flame-colored mech realized it was the location of the library. 

_What was actually left of it._

_**Which wasn’t much of anything.**_

Rodimus saw the man in the fancy clothing, with a sword at his hip, sorting through some rubble and pulling books out, making different piles of them after thumbing through them. Gai’s hat and jacket was on a pile of rubble, but the human-like alien male was digging through some broken shelves and making piles of books in whatever free space he could find around him. To be honest, given the flippant dialogue of the fancy-dressed man, Rodimus hadn’t expected him to stick around and help after everything was done.

“ _Pfft_. You’re back. Anything edible? _Coffee_ , perhaps?” Juggler said with a snort as he looked up at Asuka.

“They don’t have anything like coffee here, this is the best I could find,” Asuka responded, bracing the box on a shoulder and reaching in for some sort of can, tossing it to the fancy-dressed alien male.

“If there’s anything that should be forbidden in the universe—it’s coffee in a can,” Juggler groaned, swirling the can a little bit before opening it carefully. He made an utterly disgusted grimace. “I take that back. Putting fruit-like substance in a caffeine-like substance should be banned across all universes.”

Even though he said it, he drank the whole thing and then settled back in to sorting through the books. He only gave Rodimus a very cursory glance, as some kind of an acknowledgement of his presence, but otherwise ignored the flame-colored Autobot.

“Don’t take it personally. He’s _not_ the social type,” Asuka chuckled, which earned him an extremely rude gesture from the well-dressed man.

“ _Rodimus-kun!_ You look better! How do you feel?” Gai said as he turned to them and hopped over a small pile of rubble to walk over to Asuka and Rodimus.

“ _I’m fine_. Things like that stupidly happen to my species at the very worst of times,” Rodimus laughed. “You and your friends are okay, right? None of you were hurt too much? Musashi said what you and…….. _Asuka_ ……..did was risky.”

“We’re fine. But since Hikaru-san and Shou-san were able to do it, I knew that Dyna-san and I could do it, too,” Gai responded with a warm smile as he took a can from Asuka and took a drink. “I don’t think this is all that bad…….” he said, glancing over at Juggler.

“That’s because **_you_** have no taste whatsoever,” the fancy-dressed man spat, not as much anger actually in his voice as he seemed to be threatening with. He seemed absorbed in the book he’d picked up and pointedly ignored the two human-like males and the one robotic one standing not-so-far-away from him.

“Rodimus-kun, I know I was sent here—and was told you would be here—but why **_did_** you come here?” Gai asked, settling down on a pile of rubble and accepting some kind of wrapped food item from Asuka. Asuka set the box down and rifled through it to find a wrapped food item and a can of drink for himself before he sat down on another pile of rubble.

“Complicated, really. We came along with the others like us, from this universe—because they thought pirates may have been targeting the planet. When we got here, I suggested coming to the library, because I thought we could find things here. You know, I’m not sure _why_ I decided to look for something for us, rather than keeping an eye out for pirates,” Rodimus laughed warmly. “I told Drift we’d keep an eye out for something that looked weird, but………why’d I suggest the library?” He added with a shake of his head.

“It doesn’t hurt to follow your instincts,” Asuka said, smiling over at Rodimus as he took a bite of what was probably some kind of sandwich.

“ _Unless they lead you to cut down a tree_ ,” Juggler snapped, glaring at Asuka angrily.

Rodimus had no idea what **_that_** was about, but it was clearly something the three human-like aliens knew about……..and it was a very sore point between all of them.

“I _know_ why you did that. I’m not disputing your reasoning on that, either—it definitely made _tactical sense_. But you _didn’t_ read the room, you _didn’t_ consider the personal or political expense,” Asuka responded, his voice much calmer.

Gai seemed to be the only one who was more upset about whatever that event was, Rodimus could feel that the black-haired alien male was unhappy at whatever that past event was—and what it seemed to do to the relationship between himself and this nicely-dressed man, which may have been as a best friend or something more.

“You said you might’ve been thinking of looking for something— _it’s probably this_ ,” Juggler said, picking up a book from one of his piles and threw it at Rodimus. 

Which was impressive, considering the book was _really large_ and looked a bit heavier than expected—in relation to a human size of **_anything_**.

The flame-colored mech caught the book and laid it open in his palm, he used a digit on his opposite servo to turn pages in it and saw _the pictures_. He didn’t know the Mebian language, but…….. ** _this_** may have been something very important in their search for the other Cybertronian groups. _Maybe even in finding Epistemus._

“This will help—a whole lot— ** _thank you_**!” Rodimus said, grinning over at Juggler.

The man waved a hand dismissively and picked up another book to look through.

“I wouldn’t worry about it going _‘missing’_ from the Mebian library. I found it with items to be discarded anyways. You can tell by the slashes through the circulation markers of the materials,” the fancy-dressed man said, his voice dry and bored as he flipped through pages of another book in his lap, holding the next one in his free hand. “You’re probably doing them a favor by taking it, so they won’t have to waste effort to destroy it.”

Rodimus nodded. He might’ve felt bad taking a book ( _stealing it?_ ) from a library, but if it were going to be destroyed anyways, then he was willing to take it from them. He didn’t know he was looking for it, so it may have been instinct that made him choose “ _library_ ” as a place to “ _look for what wasn’t right_ ”, when he said it to Drift, before everything happened. And coming back to Meb— _to help_ , as if drawn back. To thank Gai and his friends, as if it were necessary—Gai would probably have even chided him, saying thanks were _completely unnecessary_. **_All of that_** ……….seemed like fate—and his own dermal sensor net drawing him along the lines of fate to where he needed to be.

Where he **_needed_** to guide his crew to be.

“Hey, since I’m here now and everything—what can **_I_** do to help you guys out?” Rodimus asked, grinning at the human-like aliens.

Asuka gave him a thumb’s-up, finished his food-sandwich thing, drank the rest of what was in the can and explained what was going on. And what they were doing in this area to fix it all.

* * * * *

After about two weeks, the Cybertronians of the _Lost Light_ and of Solomus’ crew finished up what they could (and were allowed to, by the natives) on Meb, then went back to Solomus’ base planet on Jerul. Juggler had left after two days, saying he found what he wanted and took a book with him—vanishing just as mysteriously as he had arrived. Gai simply gave a sigh, knowing it was the way his old companion simply was. Gai and Asuka stayed for about a week, before both of the two human-like aliens—sometimes even using their forms as Ultramen, to clear large masses of buildings for a few moments at a time—said they were being called back by their superiors in the Land of Light.

After everyone not native to Meb left the planet Meb—it sounded like there were possible negotiations from their world governments to consider joining the Galactic Alliance.

“It isn’t a bad thing,” Solomus said at a meeting between his command staff and the command crew of the Lost Light. “They’ll have _more protections_ —plus a basic presence of Galactic Alliance representatives and a direct line to the Galactic Ranger Patrol will probably prevent them from being targeted by the pirates.”

“As we’re also honored members of the Galactic Alliance—it means if we’re in the area, we may be asked to assist, as well,” Megatron said, nodding over at Solomus.

“Then I’m glad to hear that our friends and allies could help, when we might be more constrained to. Though we can circumvent some of the Galactic Alliance laws by our independence—it does mean that if they’re unhappy with our presence and actions, we could become blacklisted and attacked at the first opportunity by them,” the green-and-gold mech chuckled softly. “You also asked if we had a Mebian language key—we managed to acquire one for you to add to your computer database.”

“You have our appreciation. We have a book and we think it might be mentioning Epistemus, if the pictures are any indication,” Ultra Magnus, the one of the _Lost Light_ , said, making some notes on his personal datapad from discussions at the meeting.

“Do you think that my brother is truly in trouble?” Solomus asked, concern toning his light and warm voice. “I wish he did not have to suffer as he may be suffering.”

“The Omega Guardians aren’t beings you wanna mess with,” Rodimus grumbled. “However, it’s strange—not really seeing any meddling in the way that this one messed around in our universe. That Finality thing was a more proactive Omega Guardian—working towards those apocalyptic events that would let others of their kind come through.”

“It **_is_** a puzzle. But if your theory may be right—that it divided itself and is weaker than a full being may be—that could explain many things,” Solomus said, tapping his digits at the edge of the table. “I wonder if anything of my brother is left inside of him?” He murmured, thoughtfully.

“I think we’ll have to wait and see. We **_are_** going after him,” Megatron said, gazing unwaveringly at Solomus.

“I wish you luck. But if he’s been avoiding all living contact after all this time, it might be trickier than expected,” the green-and-gold mech responded. “We’ll give you our contact information. Please feel free to come back to Jerul whenever you want to. Our home is your home—you are kin, after all.”

The two command staffs began talking about other things, contact—future interactions—and other things. Then they all got up—said sparkfelt farewells and were about to part ways. Rodimus said to Megatron and Ultra Magnus that he wanted to speak to Solomus’ Ultra Magnus for a moment, in private, before they left.

That had a lot of puzzlement amongst the many Cybertronians.

The two mechs settled back down at the conference table and Rodimus could feel the little ripple of confusion in this universe’s Ultra Magnus in his EM field. The flame-colored mech understood the confusion and hoped to clear it up in a few moments.

“Star Saber told us a little bit about your past—that you used to be with Primus’ acolytes,” Rodimus said, keeping his voice soft and soothing. And he kept his own field warm and comforting. It felt weird to say Primus’ name without referring to a God, but in this universe he was simply a “super-powered person”. “I wanted to ask you what he’s like—the Primus of this universe. You know, he was different in ours……….it’s actually hard to describe him.”

“ ** _Ah_** _. Master Primus_ ,” Ultra Magnus said with a deep sigh as he relaxed back into his chair. “He is stern and kind, both—at the same time. One might think that those two personality quirks couldn’t mesh, but he had this way of being stern with you that was also very kind. He was like what…….the organics call a _‘father’_.”

“He sounds like a _good guy_. **_Umm_**. I don’t want to bring up a bad memory, but Star Saber said that…….. _a child_ was hurt and that was why you left his group,” the flame-colored mech began. He regretted it a little when he saw the larger mech flinch and a small wave of regret and shame flow through his EM field. “ _Sorry_. You don’t have to talk about it, I just……. _well_ ………”

“ _No_. It’s fine,” the red-white-blue mech responded, shaking his head and leaning forwards, bracing his forearms on the table and leaned against them. “Back on Cybertron…….. _our planet, **Primus**_ —the forebearer of our species—created us from his own frame.”

Rodimus nodded. That wasn’t all that different from their own origins.

“But after creating a population, Primus needed to rest and recover. He set his firstborn out to take care of his frame. The others born began to follow one of the firstborn or another—thus they became leaders and teachers and we became acolytes,” Ultra Magnus said.

It wasn’t that different than what Censerre had been telling telling them of this universe’s Cybertronian origins. It was just being told from a _normal mech’s_ standpoint—not a firstborn’s.

“Shortly before all of the chaos began to happen, Primus created one more Cybertronian from his frame. It was to be the start of more, but then……….the sunstar went supernova and we had to go,” the mech sighed, shuttering his optics and bringing up his servos to bury his faceplate in them. “The evacuation was chaotic—I grabbed the sparkling, who was only a few months old, and evacuated with my friends and the fellow acolytes of Primus-the-Firstborn.”

“Then you guys stopped on a world in the next system—to try and figure out what to do and where to go next?” Rodimus asked. There really **_was_** a sparkling— _a Cybertronian child_.

“That’s right. That’s when the strangeness happened. Suddenly, a few Cybertronians were murdered and……… _I lost the child_. I searched and searched and……….when I found a trail of the sparkling’s blood, I knew— _I just knew!_ —the monster that had assaulted us had probably killed the child as well,” Ultra Magnus said, very quietly. “I failed to protect Father-Primus’ final new life and so I could no longer bear to be with Primus-the-Firstborn. So, when we all parted ways—when the chaos claimed that other system as well—I went with Master Solomus and his acolytes.”

“ _That_ ………that is awful. I’m……. _I’m so sorry_ about what happened,” Rodimus murmured.

“It’s all right. I **_do_** feel better telling you. I feel like it was the right thing to do,” the mech said with a warm smile. “I know the rumour going around was that it was whatever it was that possessed Master Epistemus had done it, but……..I’m not at all certain that’s true.”

“Were there natives on the planet you stopped on?” Rodimus asked, softly.

“No, it was the planet furthest from their sunstar. There was nothing organic, for certain—if life was there, it was inactive or mineral,” the mech answered, curious at why Rodimus was asking anything beyond the event.

“ _Umm_ ……..Magnus…….. ** _errr_** , _Ultra Magnus_ —do you think the sparkling is alive?” The flame-colored mech asked, looking over at the larger mech with bright optics.

Ultra Magnus’ mouth opened and closed a few times, as if he were trying to say something, but his brain had forgotten the words. Then he looked down at his folded servos on the table.

“I saw the murdered frames of the others—I _never did_ find the sparkling’s body,” the mech finally said, his gentle voice soft and very quiet, as if he wasn’t sure he should even say the words aloud. “I think the sparkling was still alive and I don’t think Master Epistemus was the one that did it. I…… _umm_ , I had an idea who it could’ve been, but……..”

Rodimus came to attention. That usually meant it was someone higher placed in a chain of command— _someone above one’s station_.

“One of the firstborn?” Rodimus whispered, reaching over and cupping his servos around Ultra Magnus’.

The mech’s head raised with a snap and surprise registered on his faceplate as he shook it rapidly.

“A higher-ranking acolyte?” The flame-colored mech said, lowering his voice even more and moving closer to the mech.

There was a very slow nod. Ultra Magnus clearly couldn’t say the designation aloud, for some reason or another. Servos uncurled between the clasp of Rodimus’ own and a digit slowly wrote a designation-glyph in the flame-colored mech’s palm. The Autobot incycled a deep breath, immediately recognizing the designation-glyph and was horrified at what that meant.

That one of the firstborn was harbouring a murderer……and they may not have even known it. Now, not only did Rodimus worry about finding Epistemus, because of the Omega Guardian that was probably within him……….he worried about what may have occurred in the years, with a serial killer enjoying a high rank and “ _innocence_ ” living with one of the groups of refugee Cybertronians—and it **_wasn’t_** this group here under Solomus’ direction.

“If the sparkling is still alive— _we’ll find them_ ,” Rodimus said, firmly. “And if there’s someone else doing wrong—we **_will_** find them, too. **_I promise_** ,” the flame-colored mech said, clasping his servos tightly around Ultra Magnus’ once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUN-DUN-DUUUUUUUN!!! *dramatic music plays*
> 
> For anyone curious...........and has never seen "Ultraman Orb" or "The Origin Saga". Juggler "cutting down a tree" was significant. Thematically, it was his downfall and the start of his path into darkness. When I watched it......my thought was actually with Juggler on it--he made a tactical decision in war. Cause=effect........in this case, cutting down the Tree of Life would end the war. However, Juggler thought only of tactics and not how the people of the world would feel when he cut down something that was the core of their existence, their religion and the focus of all their lives. So, it's a point that can be seen from many angles--none of them exactly right and none of them really all that wrong.

**Author's Note:**

> I got to go back to work this past week. I'm so happy..............and so tired! I forgot how exhausting my job could be! XD


End file.
